I Wish I Were Bilingual

Hola and a carton of leche

I grew up speaking one language
and only had a single identity.
I had no special connection
to another culture;
never had a foreign perspective
or fluent in another tongue.

I never spoke Hebrew
or traversed the desert during biblical times.
I never wore a cross around my neck,
or tacked a mezuzah to a doorjam.

I studied Spanish for three years
and only remembered a few words —
I watched a film with a little boy named Pepito
who strolled down his vecindario.

I wish I could twirl my tongue,
speak Spanish as the Mexicans do,
be bilingual, live a double life,
and open the door to both worlds.

But perhaps, in my next incarnation,
I will speak another language fluently.
It doesn’t matter which one —
French, Spanish, German, or Swahili.

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