When I came into this world,
my lungs inhaled freedom
and exhaled a loud cry of justice.
My eyes fluttered open
like the wings of a bald eagle.
But my blood ran hot
and my tears tasted like
the Caribbean Sea.
When I walk,
I leave a trail of sand behind me.
My smile spells out the words
My skin, café con leche*
with a hint of sugar,
and my hair, a wild mane
of African descent.
Although still red, white and blue,
it isn’t the same.
I’m in the land of the free
and the home of the brave,
but I don't feel like I belong.
I am a foreigner
in my own land.
My alma* hovering above the Atlantic,
not quite sure where I stand.
sancocho: a heavy soup consisting of meat and root vegetables
Santo Domingo: the capital of the Dominican Republic
cafe con leche: coffee with milk