I am a seed without any roots.
I was blown too far from my plot,
I flew too far from my nest.
She was a Quetzal.
She was bright and vibrant,
Her beauty unmatched, and her song was too sweet.
She captivated all, they tried to steal her, they tried to hurt her,
And so she flew.
Away from her nest, across lands unknown,
Until she settled where she felt safe.
A land to call her own.
In this land
She knows better now
Than to be vibrant and different.
Her teal and red hues she began to change,
And her melodies she sang were no longer sweet.
And I am the seed which she carried, which she saved.
She tells me her stories, of how beautiful she was
She tells me how her colors used to be,
She tries to sing her sweet songs, to nourish me,
She tries so hard to get me to grow
In this new land,
She calls her own.
But, this soil is much too dry and too barren for me.
In her stories and old songs I want to belong.
But I belong neither here nor there.
Soy una semilla sin raices,
Y los historias que me a dicho mi Quetzal,
jamás serán mias.
Y, esta tierra en que me tratan a sembrar,
Esta tierra tambien, jamás será mia.
Jessy is a Salvadoran-American writer and reproductive rights activist.
Follow her on Instagram: jessyzuko
and Twitter: @jessyzuko