*To Jackie, Maria, and the children of immigrants birthed with a Purpose*
how do I live like my life is my own?
I must care for the generations before me
unbothered and detached is a luxury
the few of us feel too responsible to cherish
I don’t envy you, maybe a little
but how could I ever walk away?
I fail if the duties that my ancestors
passed to me linger without manifestation.
after surviving their storm,
they invested the grit into this legacy
in my “I” there’s all of us
my existence is for ancestry.
I’m the birth of the sunlight
after many generations in obscurity
I am the pending Destiny;
I am the Dream of Generations
those before me
standing with me
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