AMBIVALENCE
Ambivalence
By Renata Nathania
The soaring eagle does not know what I see when I look up
The scurrying ant is too busy to notice my presence as it races past me.
I, however, sit in quiet repast, watching.
They tell me nature has more to learn from
Than the education that I pay to gain.
They tell me then, that all I need to learn is outside the classroom.
When I stand up, they tell me the view is better when I sit.
When I sit, they call me arrogant for not rising.
When they ask me my name, I tell them what it is,
But they refuse to believe that there is only a name
And nothing else when my lips mouth the words.
They struggle to understand that their factors and definitions
Are not mine.
They struggle to understand that their differences are not mine.
They simply cannot fathom why I beg them to stop
Trying to create history from my past
When all I want to do is build my future from who I already am.
It does not matter where I came from.
It matters who I become.
But somehow, they don’t believe
That it’s okay not to always grieve
The loss that was never mine at all.
They say my forefather cried when he toiled in the sun
Naked and soiled from the soiling of another man.
They also say that my great grandmother laughed a little
When she counted out her gems
And learned that she had a new one to her name
Because the poorer woman lost hers.
But they don’t tell me what to do
When both these people make a small part of me.
Do I grieve the loss of a man I never knew,
Or rejoice in the gain of a gem I never wore,
Simply because it is written
That I came from such and such a line?
What about what I know of the world,
And what I know I can do
To change the way our memories work?
What about what I can do to help the way our stories were written?
Or am I also just another accident of birth
That has to live with faltering balances
Of loss and love
That weigh out each other
Till the end of my days?
Am I also just another name
Limited by my skin,
By my heritage,
By my history,
By my race?
