Cinnamon and saffron
A dash of cinnamon and one of saffron
What does blending the two leave you with?
I am not so sure
A hybrid not tasting like one or the other
I am a mixture
Rather pale but with olive undertones
Echoes of honey and of sweet rose syrup and mild summer nights by the Caspian sea
Meet echoes of winter sleigh rides and gingerbread dipped in hot mulled wine
They make sure to tell me that I am not one of them
Not pale enough, not dark enough
Too pale, too dark
Oh are you sure you’re from there?
Can you really speak the language?
Your accent is very good – how come?
I must grit my teeth and say what I always say
I belong here
I am you
Experiencing rejection from my own makes me restless
They are all I have
But I am made to choose
In the hope that I am chosen back
Can’t you see I’m one of you?
I dye my hair to make it less me – maybe now I can fit in?
I am uprooted and I uproot myself
I can never have enough
There is always something else for me to try
Some other soil to plant my yearning fingers into
I worry for my children
If I have any
Will they feel at peace? Will this be their norm?
Or will their discomfort be greater than mine?
A pinch of cinnamon and one of saffron
I must sometimes pull myself out of the whirlwind of sounds and smells and sensations
Take a moment to feel
Of how I have the riches of the world within one heart
How cultures mix and mingle within my blood
How I may not belong to either one of them
But have claim to both