Descent is
a word for 
downfall, as in

I am of 
mixed
descent, as in

I am descended
from and thus
am no longer

a part of.  
I’ve fallen from
and landed below.

My current name
was pasted upon me
to cover up

whatever name 
slipped off
during my

descent.
I do answer to it:
a sound

of hard landing
in a place I’ve grown 
to recognize though

it never feels like home,
which some suggest
is better considering

how much hate
is attached to those
old names. Better, they say,

to have landed
and be renamed
as if I’d fallen

naked and new
and unconnected,
though I am not.

I don’t feel better
for anonymity and
erasure, considering

what distance I’ve fallen 
to get here and how
broken I was upon impact.

It’s my descent
we’re speaking of.
I’d like to know

what the heights
I fell from 
are like and I’d like

to think that someone
up there would know me
if I somehow returned,

could call me by name,
could help me find
my way back

to who I once was.