Where I'm From
Where I’m From
Jazmin Diaz
I am from beans and rice,
from rocks used as chalks, and hopscotch.
I am from the chilling cold basement,
from silence and counting the sheep.
I am from the cat catching the rats,
from yelling and shouting “DO NOT LET IT GO!”
I am from the light going out
as if it was happening to me.
I am from smiles and hugs,
from the one-and-only Erika.
I am from the “We will get through this” and “You’re only stronger because of this,”
to “Keep your head up! ”and “Make sure to lift others up!”
I am from “Don’t talk so much, otherwise you’ll say to much,”
from “Don’t talk back to Elvis” or he takes everything away from the family.
Whose respect was diminishing and love was fading for a dad.
I am from Little Village and Glendale Heights,
From conchas and hamburgers.
I am from rags to my own version of riches,
from killing cockroaches to being scared to even see one.
I am from hurting another by telling a truth
from the childhood my mother lost to the monster who took away mine.
Whose father turned his back on me...
and my family.
On top of my shelf was a Barbie picture book,
Spilling old pictures of lost faces,
A bundle of fake smiles and tragedies.
I am from those moments,
Those moments of terror and light.
Enduring the evil from the family tree,
Yet making sure it isn’t passed on.