product of war

i am a product of war.

of your war, right?

the stench of dirt runs through my veins,

a stain in the perfect white landscape.

my throat dries from the reminder when i look in the mirror,

so i reach for the water.

water so dirtied from the war that only the heat of

fire and bombs could clean it.

i wonder if we are finally clean

in this new country away from our genes.

they call it our war over here,

like a label that is stuck to us.

big red words scattered across our foreheads causing

heads to turn and yearn for something

what is it? were we their

war?

am i yours?

what made the war

ours and not theirs.

i wasn’t born into war,

i was born of it.

born of the blood on hands i did not have,

and screams i did not yell.

a war i didn’t witness,

yet i embody.

i was born of the american war.

Author: Salem Dinh

Editors: Luna Y.

Image source: Tommaso Teloni, Unsplash