Growing Up Halo-Halo

I haven't been graced or privileged to find a community within my culture. Not since I moved.  It was my mother that gave that to me. She was the glue that held me there, the proof I needed to exist in that space, like a certificate I could hold high. They'd look at her and it clicked when I stood beside her. It was the only thing that made sense. She carried me so far until the biracial weight was too much for the both of us. I feel like without her, I'm just some sort of fraud. An imposter, a phoney. Too ambiguous and too English to be allowed in certain circles. My mom was my ticket for that train, and it's like I'm standing alone on the platform because I missed the last one. Dreading having to step off of it, feeling as if I do, there's nothing beyond it. When I recount memories, she has always been my bridge; and I constantly worry about the day it burns down.  She is always a voice I hear in the back of my mind, whether I need it or not. I could probably ...

What would it look like If I wrote a letter, w ith all the words I can’t say  They come to me in the dark now Trying their best to describe all the ways That they catch in my throat, t angle themselves with my tongue  As I try to thrust them out  spit them out Chest heaving with the weight of them Collapsing with syllables  Sounds lost, choked and cut off Burning as they come up, turned to ashes A larynx severed, as  if with sharp scissors  And even if I could manage, Produce the scribbled lines I’d use those same blades To slice though the pages  Write them down in pencil Just to erase them away  Undo the work of hands that the soul won't allow Leave the paper untouched Clean, stark white  Reduced to silent cries for help In a language no one else speaks Walk away Another day Resigned They say things left unsaid will eat you inside  To let them out, let them go, set them free But they forgot that they're caged there And I lost the key...