Lost in this Land

My Chinese eyes. 
American hands.
And a nostalgia for Budapest
A place I've never seen but through my father's eyes. 

A mix of yellow and white
they say. 
A twinkie. 
A woman, whose petals are many different shades
of culture. 

The language of one, 
my sacred tongue. 
I speak but can't be heard. 
I long but can't be felt.

I spend my life trying to belong to one. 
accepted by both. 
Yet, as one. I am alone. 

ethnically ambiguous
they say. 
lost in between oceans of one motherland to the other

A new breed. 
that searches for identity.
I am only left with myself