Mother

Born in the east raised by the west Torn in between cultural dressings Both may feel right, but neither feels whole Mother I'm torn between two different homes Land filled with pears, and apricot hues The lands filled with mangoes and papayas blooming Each land of woman filled with rich story Mother I'm stuck between two different mornings And how dissonant are each of these bridges And how resonant are each of these feelings though If neither feels right and neither feels wrong Mother my children will speak in different tongues Mother I'm shy I can't speak your tongue Mother don't cry I've been trying again Trying to be bold as you were before me I'm leaving the west I'm going alone