By Nancy Mungcal
We were one
or incomplete.
Numbers didn’t matter
and those that
said they did
weren’t to be
relied upon.
Our strength
wasn’t in those
figures compiled
but in conviction,
in spirit,
in determination
and in love.
We were one
or incomplete.
The same color
or shades of
or opposite.
They pointed out
our differences
and made us
mark on
applications,
on surveys.
We were naked
With no borders left.
Written on our bodies
what we claimed
for ourselves.
Pain was pain
in any language.
Heartache didn’t
choose by color or gender.
We had new stories
to write.
The old ones no
longer served us.
And we pledged no allegiance
to false prophets.
