Quien es la Morenita? 
                                                   Who is the little dark skinned girl?
Where does she belong?
Her curious dark eyes look upon the world in wonder.
She does not seem to question 
The woman she calls mami,
Has skin the color of a coffee creamer,
Whilst her own is of a darker tone.
No se da cuenta de ella?
                                                           Does she not realize?
That the girl she calls sister
Has hair that falls like
A silken, black curtain
Whilst her own
Twists and twirls like it has 
Forgotten its way.
The curves of her pouting mouth
Are full  
Commanding attention
From the little boy
She calls brother.
And the man she knows only as 
She lays her head into the chest 
Of the older woman who calls her Mija.
She cannot understand what Abuela says
Yet she already understands,
Love has no color
No culture, 
No language
She is where she belongs



I was partially raised by my Mexican Godparents. We were constantly stared at in public because I clearly didn't "match" my family. This is what I would say to people who pretend love has specific ethnic boundaries. 

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