Poem: Second-generation Immigrant

I was born here;

I went to school here;

I have the maroon coloured passport that says

Nationality: German.

German is my mother tongue,

but it is not my mother’s tongue

nor my father’s.

So, I guess I’m not German German.

Though I sing “Germany is my fatherland,”

It is not my father’s land.

But I’ve never been to my father’s land

and in my mother’s, I’m white-washed.

White-washed but not quite white enough.

Not dark enough for my father’s land,

but not white enough for my fatherland.

So, I guess I’m not German German.

I vote in this country;

I pay taxes in this country.

I’m sorry that my ancestors never shed blood for this country,

but I would.

I would shed my blood,

but that blood would not contain any German DNA.

So, I guess I’m not German German.

So, as long as my eyes are a little narrower,

my nose a little larger,

my lips a little fuller,

and my skin a little browner.

I guess I’ll always just be German

with the bitter aftertaste that follows