Aryan Heritage -Revised-Aryan HeritageMore Like This
In Elementary School, my teacher
Smiles. Tomorrow, she says,
You should wear traditional costumes
From your native country. Heritage day.
I wear my blue, white, yellow
Swedish dress. (No, it's my
Grandmother's.) I smile, not knowing.
Empty eyes, blue eyes.
While my ancestors looked away,
Blinded by their blue eyes,
Millions dissolved into ash
And drifted into the sky.
During puberty, I learn about the horrors
Wrought by my blood. As I look in the mirror,
My blond blond hair gradually fades into a mousy brown.
But – no. I still look like I belong on a propaganda poster.
I avert my eyes.
In college, I dye my hair bright blue
In an attempt to smother my resemblance
To millions of soldiers marching, marching.
But the dye only emphasizes my Nordic looks.
Now I'm just a blue-haired blue-eyed Swede.