Particles By Taylor K.

I've eroded myself into tiny particles. 

Into slivers so tiny and flexile, 

they can work for anyone. 

Aimed to please and fit. 

The pieces never adjust. 

I never connect to a puzzle, 

I designate to no map. 

My conception stays within no border. 

One moment i am this, 

the next, 

I am that. 

A chimera, 

chameleon, 

kaleidoscope. 

A minute fragment. 

Beneath my culture, 

hidden under my duality, 

lives pale skin. 

To most 

all i can be weighted as 

is a parcel of sundry roots. 

In this mess of particles, 

remnants of civilizations thrive. 

Scents of copal and cempasuchitl aromatize. Specks of the sun, 

bursting through my veins. 

Brown and white, 

a coalesce of culture 

With no effort. 

With no trace . 

A cosmic genesis 

but always, 

a political mess. 

Although my identity is at the forefront of controversy, the many particles reunite, reform and prevail. The particles of my identity are not for you, they are mine. The sundry roots of my life are not weeds, they can be stepped on, chopped and killed, but they will blossom into an everlasting estate.