Part One: Two Worlds in One

I was born knowing

two worlds,

the one baby who disobeyed the customary

and arrived with brown hair instead of 

black.

Though I was born in my 

father's country,

half a world away,

people whose 

flag 

included blue

as well as red and white,

were celebrating my debut into

the world.

As I lay, 

sleepy, 

vulnerable,

I heard splatters of

voices,

Japanese issued from nurses' mouths,

but also the loving words of my parents

in English.

I was born with an extra 

language

swimming through my ears.

At two, I decided to 

stop being a toddler and become a 

dancer,

attempting to mimic the graceful

twirls and leaps 

of the Royal Ballet's "Nutcracker."

No doubt by the age of four I could

hum

more classical music than

almost anyone in town.

My mind 

will not 

relinquish 

the memory

of the first time I

stepped

into a ballet studio.

Music 

guiding feet

across

the worn wooden floor,

hands 

caressing 

the polished barre.

The look on my

round,

four-year-old face

erased any doubt in my parents' minds, 

and the search for a 

birthday present

was over. 

T.V. was

nonexistent, so 

books 

chased away

boredom.

I would

melt 

into the pages,

all my senses focused on the 

world

beyond the 

words.

I lived so many different

lives,

a cat 

would surely be jealous.

My mother's

proud 

eyes

would watch as I

effortlessly

swam through

novels

in English,

proof

that just one teacher

could nurture a child who

could hold her own

in a country

half a world away.

She would be alarmed at times

though,

crying,

"You read that in 

one

day?"

and I would 

nod,

wishing that books 

would be written 

longer,

or 

better yet,

go on 

forever.

But accepting that 

books

must

end

was far easier

to take

than the end

of the

welcoming world

I had always

thought

I had known.

Part Two: Nightmares

A 

spark.

A

flicker.

What?

My thoughts are

uneasy.

I glance around the 

bustling 

grocery store.

An 

unidentified object has entered 

my mind.

Why are people staring at

me?

A kid 

points.

"Look, Mom, a 

foreigner!"

I 

scream

inside.

The object has

burst

into flame,

shedding

an eerie light

onto itself.

It is

just

a thought,

but as I watch,

it

swells

and

grows.

YOU

ARE

DIFFERENT.

I want to

shout,

"I'm just

as Japanese

as any of you!"

but my

brown hair

and

big eyes

and

paler skin

prove

to me

that I was

born

knowing

two worlds,

but

into

the wrong one.

Did I understand

correctly?

Is this a 

school

or a 

zoo?

I must have a 

powerful scent of 

threat

because soon they are

upon me;

Monsters

slashing

at Confidence,

stamping 

on Individuality,

kicking away

Opinion,

handing me a 

cake with icing words,

"Follow

us,

or else."

Whispers and glares that

compress 

my lungs.

I'm 

trapped

in my whirling mind.

The blood

of a

samurai,

the blood 

of a 

revolutionary,

flows 

through my

every thought,

my 

every move.

You were 

not

born to follow.

You were 

born to fly.

You are a

warrior.

戦え / Fight.

My mind

growls

through

clenched teeth,

"I don't

deserve

this."

I feel my mother's

confidence and resilience

bubble in my heart,

my father's

gentleness and reason

steady me.

I raise my head.

My 

eyes

bore

into 

the monsters'

satisfied grins.

The grins

slip.

And with that,

I am 

floated away

to a deserted island

where I fend off

occasional

attacks

but mainly go about my day,

unscathed

and 

alone. 

The bell

rings,

and I trudge home to where I can

belong.

Part Three: Waking Up

Smiles.

Unsuppressed laughter.

No groups.

Just

open doors.

Don't

rise,

Hope.

Not yet.

This is 

just 

a dream.

I wait

to wake up to reality.

I

wait,

and

wait,

and

wait,

and

wait,

and

WAIT!

I have

started

from my 

nightmares,

sweaty,

heart beating,

scared,

vulnerable.

My 

past

tries to pull me 

back,

telling me 

I will never

belong,

but my 

groggy brain

realizes 

that though I will

never

forget

my nightmares,

I

can

wake

up.

I focus on

now. 

I let Hope

rise

to the 

galaxies.

I can see that

my

dance

and my 

books

and my

hair

and my

thoughts

and my two worlds

belong

here,

in my

new school,

in my

new life.

And then

I know

that for

the first time in

millennia,

I

am

truly

awake.