Poetry: Olives

A white face among a sea of olive,

Here, I am the minority.

I am the definition of different.

Should I feel that I belong?

Or am I an invader?

Do my Chilean roots help me pass?

Does my Mora name mean a thing?

Or will I always be Gringa?

I am a white face swimming in an olive ocean,

Here, I am different.

Will my accent ever go away?

Or will I always sound like me…

How long until I will understand every word?

How long until the uncertainty passes?

Here, I am the minority.

A face symbolizing “money and power,”

A “higher class,”

Yet still,

The definition of different.

A white face among a sea of olive.

Melina Marks is a high school student, working at her mother’s and stepfather’s café and pasteleria, Popacuchu, located at Edificio Cuatro Rios, Primero de Mayo y Ave. de las Americas in Cuenca, Ecuador. You can read more on her blog: http://melinamoramarks.blogspot.com/

 


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