I am from knee pads, from Nike and cotton. I am from highways and skyscrapers I am from the sunflowers, the long petals, the kind of long I wish my legs were
I am from tamales and dark hair, from Luna and Flores and Coci. I am from the mile Monday’s and Sunday mornings. From don’t touch that and sharing is caring. I am from Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. And the last line that I always mess up.
I'm from Las Angeles and Samoa, posole and sweet spaghetti. From the siblings my grandparents lost while coming to America, the cancer patients, survivors, and victims, and my Nana saying she wanted to go. I am from the pictures that are forgot on the staircase, the distant ones in the media room, the close ones in the family room, and the dearest in the dining room