your beautiful nation

i am the child
of immigrants from
a place too scary to name,
a place my history books
cannot speak of.


they did not leave
because they hated their
roots, they did not leave
because america is 
beautiful because america
has only ever been beautiful
to the americans.


i am sorry, i am sorry
if i am disrespectful, but
i cannot sit here in my choir
class while we talk about
what the terrorists did
to beautiful, invincible,
america.


please.
stop remembering the hate.
start remembering the names.


maria rose abad,
peter paul apollo,
jack charles aron,
do you know the names,
american, do you,
tell me, have you spent your
nights looking at the names,
the names that will
forever bring me a
foreign guilt?


carl asaro,
sandy ayala,
brett t. bailey,
tell me, will
you ever know the names?


I AM SORRY I MAKE
YOUR MOURNING SO MUCH
HARDER BUT I CANNOT SHUT UP
so i will cry in
the hallway instead.


i was not alive for the fall
of america the invincible,
but i was born into the beautiful
burning of middle east,
so believe me, i do know pain.


i live my life in bold
except for one day every
year, and on that one day,
i keep my head down,
i count the names, 
and i drown in red, red
red, white and blue.