I am the pale, thick cheeked child of Latvia,
And so too attests my starchy blond hair.
I am the young and soupy culture of America,
And so says the lack of butter blond in my hair.
I am the new age, cosmopolitan citizen of North Arlington,
And so are the people I associate with.

I am from the children of Communism, poverty and starvation.
I am among the children of the children of the depression,
And the children disappointed by the failed hopes of their generation.
I am a foreign native who would go back to prosperity.

I am a chameleon in my eyes, I encompass the spectrum,
From lion’s fun,
And the majestic mix of brown and green of the mighty oak,
To the grey-blue of the mountains always in the distance.
I am in a bronze helmet, with flowing fields of wheat dispersed by pebbles of onyx,
And in the mighty sun only then does the forbidden amber of my birthstone come out.
I am a deep, creamy and rich purple of opulence,
And it shines through my heart and soul.

I am a reclusive turtle surrounded by and ocean of friends,
A fierce tiger,
Protective as a lion of his cubs,
Serene as an otter,
And a calm preying mantis.

I am a walker in those awkward pauses,
Unbreakable like titanium,
A fast trotter when at peace under natural conditions,
And a powerhouse runner when help is needed.

I am one who dreams to go back to Latvia,
To my birthplace,
To my past,
And to my other family.
I am a dreamer of changing the world, whether curing ‘this’ and helping ‘them’,
Or ultimately making a difference and being a memory.
I am dreaming of finding relatives lost, but not forgotten,
To remake relationships lost, but not forgotten.

I am myself and no one can say otherwise.
I am me.