Hello, my name is an immigrant, and I apologize for the sharp edges of my broken English that may cause your ears to bleed. I struggle to articulate myself, feeling as though my mouth is attempting to consume an entirely different language. If you are not content with my presence here, I urge you to go back from whence you came.

I exist in a state of invisibility, working three jobs just to make ends meet. So many nights have been spent under the shelter of bridges, causing some to question if I am a mere troll. These desperate circumstances force me to piece together a future from the shattered fragments of my past. At times, this entails mashing up parts of myself to create a paste that can hold it all together.

Hope becomes my bed for the night, but I am shrouded in a blanket woven from the threads of fear. Hello, my name is immigrant, what calms your growling stomach? The only time I can experience a semblance of safety is when I consume the food of my homeland. Through the soups, I am transported back to the waters in which I once frolicked with joy. The sautéed vegetables serve as reminders of the hills and trees I once traversed freely. The spices mirror the twinkle of stars that illuminated my nights.

There are moments when I forget the resilience that courses through my veins. The blood within me flows, jumps, and runs with an unyielding strength. Yet, I find myself questioning if I still hold worth in this foreign land. Hello, my name is immigrant, and they all judge me as dirty. The pressure upon my cracked hands is unbearable, causing them to be caked with mud as I try to meet stubborn ends. I observe your gaze fixed upon my unfamiliar attire, fueling a monster within me.

The secret lies in the delicate balance between Yin and Yang, as I am neither fully one nor the other. I am stranded in a limbo, neither here nor there. The abundance of both identities hinders my peace, confining me to the arms of a nomad. Hello, my name is immigrant, and I am here to stay.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer