I must look Mexican
Earth toned skin
Kissed by who we call
Our father, the sun.
To be trailed
By our long, black wedding veil
Hair
Catching the wind
And flies like that annoying crow.
With eyes of M&M, but we don’t melt in your hands,
Instead, we harden and break your teeth
With dignity.
But I still must look Mexican.
Shorter than that sequoia of a Cherokee
But not tall enough to ride
That cowboy of silver and turquoise
Navajo.
Ayee!
I swear I still look Mexican by those standards.
I know my clans
2 of them but still
Tódích’íi’nii (Bitter Water), maternal
Kinyaa’aanii (Towering House Clan), paternal
Honágháahnii (One who Walks Around), maternal grandma
And that one other clan.
But to know all 4 clans is the key
With an extensive amount of Dine,
Vocab,
Ya'aat'eeh(hello).
And with this, I still look Mexican.
No high cheekbones
Short like tree stump
and still, learning my language?
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