IDENTITY CRISIS

For Monika...my friend and fellow misfit! ;)


My nature is dual:
I am of a land of ice and snow
that freezes the blood,
yet also of a country of drizzle and mist -
a green place, temperate and overpopulated.

I was conceived beneath Finland's midnight sun,
then planted in England's fertile plain.
My duality linked two lovers
barely able to speak
each others language -
except through my genes.
I cannot tell whether
I am dark or fair.
Should I wear chunky knits
or delicate silks?
Will I tan easily
or burn to a cinder
in a rare English heatwave?

They call me British, but
these crowds frighten me -
prompt a craving for the vast open spaces
of my maternal land:
those barren wilds that endlessly call
through ancestral echoes
to my evolutionary Soul.

An identity crisis looms
like a lengthening winter shadow:
Who is this person in the mirror
whose feet leave imprints
in British soil?
Has she any right to be here?
She is certainly no thoroughbred,
so is she mongrel?
Perhaps...
for I do speak English
while thinking in Finnish.
Does this, then, deem me impostor?
Or simply a cultural conundrum:
identity unknown?