Spanish Speaking Haitian

Growing up I never felt Dominican enough
I felt judged by my skin color
Felt rejected by those who were
physically Dominican enough
So many years I've argued against
the stupidity,
the remarks of refinar la raza,
but sometimes I ask myself
If I am senile
Maybe I should stop playing the pageant princess
and truly see the validity in each remark
Growing up I never felt "pretty"
There was always someone there who needed to point out
my defect
the wide nose, the dark skin
Oh how pretty she'd be if she had a different face
Growing up insecurities controlled me
whenever someone called me cute
I felt embarrassed and ashamed, it felt like a joke
and I was the PUNCHLINE.
This dark skin was not beautiful
my wide nose was not attractive
Still today some remarks remain with me
my insecurities my faults
Still today, I don't feel Dominican enough
Among foreigners my dominicaness was apparent
among my people I was never Good enough to hold the title.
At the parades I would always be asked "Are you Dominican?"
Not even the t-shirt that read "Proud Dominican"
was enough for them to let me in
My Haitian roots I could not deny and though I tried it followed me
Had I been European I would have been embraced
Those are the features that this nation had claimed.

I grew up ashamed of that part of me
I denied it, because I thought it would help me hide.
I always saw in me what others saw
this Spanish speaking Haitian trying to be Dominican.

Forget that I was born on that forsaken Island,'
just as my parents, just as my grandmother.
The color of my skin was my passport, my bridge my jail
my punishment.
I felt ashamed of being me
I wanted so much to be like the rest
I came to the realization that I was not Haitian
I don’t speak the language, I wasn’t born there
I am not Dominican either
I speak the language, was born in the country, and claimed it as my own
But I guess that forsaken country decided I wasn’t worthy of being one of them
Once gain I wasn’t pretty enough
Light enough or worthy.
I’ll guess in their eyes I’ll never be more than a Spanish Speaking Haitian

Noches Caribeñas

Tengo un largo rato que no sueño
duro horas dando vuelta
ahogandome en mi subconciente,
esperando, desiando, implorando
pero esa imagen magica
que con solo pensarla siento escalofrio, paz y euforia
no posee, no controla, no llega
Ayer escuche esa voz, tan calmada, tan melancolica
tan llena de recuerdos y pesamientos

Algo en mi no logra olvidarte
Cada vez que escucho una bachata de Frank Reyes
Recuerdo esos momentos que pense estar realmente Enamorada
Esas noches de verano caribeña
Cuando la brisa soplaba lentamente contra los arboles en las noche
Los perros ladraban y aun con el calor de la temporada
Mi cuerpo encontraba refugio contra el tuyo
Tus manos me acariciaban, tus labios me hacian sentir mujer
Y aun con el miedo a ala muerte
y la nostalgia de los recuerdos que m e perseguian
Nunca en la vida me habia sentido tan viva...