I am from croquettas de jamon,
From guava and cheese.
I am from sandy beaches heated by the bright, burning sun
(Beating, glistening, warming my skin, tasting like freedom)
I am from the coconuts, the palm tree that left needles in my hands when I
tried to climb it.
I'm from coffee and cigars,
From Fidel and Peter Pan.
I'm from sacrifice and patriarchy,
From lay back and push forward,
I'm from Para bailar La Bamba
and every song performed by Celia Cruz that I have tried to sing in the shower.
I'm from Aida and Gregorio's plight,
Breaded food and sugar infused coffee.
From the thirteen dollars in my grandfather's pocket in 1962
To my grandmother's swollen belly that kept my mother safe.
My room houses a box of pictures and poems
A collection of stories, remembered and forgotten.
I am from each of these moments and what they represent- created before I-
All pieces of a puzzle I struggle to complete.