Carmelina Fernandes-Kock am Brink
“Half-breed,”
She called me, smiling, malice in her eyes,
The day I told her my story.
A term I thought she could only have learned
Growing up in the United States.
I returned the smile, though stunned and
Stung by the cruel misnomer,
Diametrically opposed to the true
Breeding of anyone blessed with more
Than merely one passport, one origin.
Those who learn early on to grasp
The nuances of
Each parent’s language who tread
Head high
On (un)familiar turf either side of
The Atlantic, or other waters, who do not jumble or falter
On etiquette but see the world as their
Oyster. Who do not endlessly complain
Compare and find WASP material the only
Readable guide.
As freely as the sap flows through the maple
Is diversity inscribed in the DNA
Of the nation
I hail from. So thoroughly bred into our
Bones, despite the cold of those endless
Winters,
Lies the assurance
That exponential
Growth stems from the blood rushing through
Veins of intertwined members on
Passionate nights of discovery. An Other
Body complete with baggage we accept to
Face carry embrace, make our own.
Histories remembered rekindled
Listened to. Applied knowledge that beauty
Appears like a rainbow arching across the
Grey zones.
How better equipped can one be to find
Out-of-the-box solutions
Than having grown up
On a mix of lentils frankfurters
Drunk feni, diluted
With coke, sampled poutine
On occasion
Yet truly Indulged in tourtière and cheered on
The only hockey team that ever really mattered?
Our street’s segregation ran across language lines and we kids,
Trilingual caramelized-skinned, came from a
Planet so odd our neighbours knew not
How to size us up and I felt I belonged only once I’d landed
At the downtown high school of
United nations,
Where every face every name
Became a melody, a heralding call of
Identities anchored in
Split-second decisions, risk, memory and
New beginnings.
On full moon nights gliding across the local ice rink
Or lying atop our mountain of snow piled high
By the plough, lights flashing, in
A moment of truce with the enemy
Gazing up at the stars
I could feel all the great
Worlds inside me
Converge. And
Imagine myself later on come spring
Striving to find
A certain blossom of blue
Coaxed into view solely by
Those born and bred
To make the long climb, see far and wide,
Take the time,
Recognize.
I’d pluck it out gently left hand shading petals,
Drink in all its glory, then gift it to a friend.
No halfway measures.
—Submitted on 08/21/2020
Carmelina Fernandes-Kock am Brink is of German-Indian background, grew up in Canada, and teaches English in Toulouse, France.
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