Mestizo Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Mestizo



It was then, the moment that I heard the word Sangre…
Lost in the word I liked it as if it was an ocean and I was a whale.
I called, no one understood my language, and I was drifted away from my people.
I was from the people of heart, love and care and they…money…fun and today.
Sangre
That became a canoe made of reed & straw and I became a floating Uro, on water.
Waves, winds, gusts, hurricanes and rainstorms came and I rowed and pedaled.
Then came the Creole and Moreno and the blacks who speak nothing but a funny Spanish
And more and more
But all warming and burning
Like fire
Like vodka formulated by Mendeleev and approved by Alexander II
But two or more questions came with every answer
Now I encounter Métis
“They are one of the recognized Aboriginal peoples in Canada.”
“They trace their descent to mixed First Nations and European heritage.”
They are Mestizos
The children of rape
The children of adventure
The children of need for food, shelter and care
The children who were abused and exploited to fool their Indian side
The children who recorded parts of the history that has left us some grips to the real history
Mestizos are Metis and reverse.

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