Where We’re From

I am from Bosnia
and the land of the free
From the Quran
and Mohammed
I am from soldiers
and soccer players
From pride & self-respect
and honor
I am from kindness
and giving
From helping
and caring
I am from Baklava
and potatoes
From masenca
and kljukuša
I am from farmers
and immigrants
From mathletes
and writers
I am from the motivated
and the ones who show character
From good people who do good things when no one is watching
and from the strong
I am from the leftovers of a bloddy war
and refugees trying to find freedom
From warriors
and champions

I am from sirens and gangs
I am from hip-hop and rap
I am from “Hey black child”
I am from Joan B.
and that single parent life
I am from Psalm 34
I am from that one tree with one branch
and one bud
I’m that collard greens and corn bread
I am from you better stop or “we going to fight”
I am what makes me.­­­

I am from dirty and dust,
and from falling in the mud.
From red, green, and white
and red, white, and blue.
I am from corridos, and cumbias
and rap blasted from cars.
From tacos, tamales, tortas, and pozole
and pizza, and burgers.
I am from Chicago’s west side,
and Tayahua and Cuidad Juárez
from Spanish and Engllish,
and from “te aplacas o te aplaco”
I am from the house that was never big enough
and that always had 3 families in it
from the house that always had a broken window
and the hole in the ceiling.

I am from all different towns
and all different cities
from Eagle River
and all Italian dinners
I am from all kinds of noodles
and sauce that Angeline makes best
from taking relaxing walks down the street’s path
and sitting by the lake watching the fish pass
I am from that house with all the yelling
and that house with a lot of laughter
from finding a lost dog
and being a bowl hog
All these pictures
ad all these memories
bring me back
to the time where we all sat

I’m from a small town
between the hustle and bustle
where neighbors are like family.
From catching fireflies
at the purple twinkling twilight.
I am from Asian food
—sweet and sour, tangy, and creamy.
I am books and books and
oh my goodness books.
From swinging so high on the swing set
that my sneakers
could punch holes in the clouds.
From summertime popsicles, chlorine’d hair,
diving boards and sunburns.
I am from decorations and ribbons,
garlands, and statues, and
holiday festivals.
I am from places I’ve been
And will be from the all the places I go.
Not always wealth, but always love.

I am from the
pictures on my wall,
and from Barbara &
Gezary, from the smell
of her cooking, and the
taste of Polish food.
I am from kindness,
and from the red and white,
from the blue shores, and the
green grass.
I am from the pool, and
from a little farm in the
I am who I want to be,
and I will be who I want
to be. I have been
to many places, and as I
stare at my memories I
see myself.
I am from everywhere.

I’m from Mississippi
From Alabama and I-290
From Austin
and Jamaica
I’m from Somerton, chicken foot soup,
and chili, fried chicken
From Central and Division
And Oak Park
I’m from cranberry juice, jerk chicken
and festivals with curry
From Central
and Iowa

I’m from the eclectic smell of waffles,
Swedish pancakes + café cubano in the morning.
And sounds of laughing, salsa music in the air.
Older women in their clusters in the
corner, gossiping in Español.
I’m from Cuba, moving to Miami, and
born n’ raised in Chicago.
And mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers
all combined in one tiny room.
I’m from 2 families, 1 already gone.

I’m from rich foods
With spices and seeds galore
From foods that are spicy,
or plain or just flat out tasty.
I’m from Bangla
the language of my people
from the accents and slang
and the inside jokes that only I get.

I’m from pierogi
and chicken noodle soup.
I’m from orange walls
and tons of gossip.
I’m from Augustów
with its beautiful lakes.
I’m from chocolate
and long walks.
I’m from small shops,
and family Christmas.
I’m from loud arguments
and church.
I’m from music
and Poland.
I’m from trees
and packed streets.

I’m from Kosovo
and Knin
From hills
and sunshine
I’m from Milia
and Milka
From Orthodoxy
and Šatrovački
I’m from Croatia
and Slovania
From drywall
and wine

I’m from birds, that always chirp.
From cats that always meow.
And from fish that move in silence.
I’m from animals themselves.
I’m from stairs, that let me fall
And bump my head.
I’m from the cold colors, that fill my home.
I’m from Lincoln’s Land.
I’m from the Windy City.
From the wind that causes the whistles to blow.
I’m from my father who is almost never here.
I’m from trucks that take my dad all around the world.
I’m from Saturday mornings when my dad is home.
I’m from sports, that make my life complete.
From volleyball itself.
I’m from the bump and sets, that get the ball over the net.
I’m here, where my family lives.
Where I create memories.
This is my home.
This is where I’m from.

I am from quiet
And loud
From the warm of the summer
And the cold of the winter
I am from two countries but one state
And two cities but one house
From two large families
Separated by an ocean
I am from the tragedies of death
And the miracles of life
From the over the top
And the down below
I am from the Polish speaking home
And the English speaking friends
From the pierogi and paczki
And the fries and burgers
I am exactly who I will be
I am a kid with my friends and an adult with my family
I am a broken branch
Still hanging thanks to family and friends

I’m from my rabbit Nala
And my backyard
From Lake Geneva
And tiny little pinecones
I’m from my best-friend bear
And my coke blankie
From swimming in my pool
And from the color green
I’m from Disneyworld
And from dandelions
From mashed potatoes and corn
And purple ketchup
I’m from baseball
And the 1st grade spelling bee
From the trombone
And hot wheels
I’m from good and bad times
And I am proud
From my past and my future
I am happy with where I am from

I’m from warm bread
And warm fresh cookies and brownies.
From bright green grass
And small purple flowers.
I am from “how long will you be gone”
And “I missed you so much”.
I’m from Thanksgiving dinners
And warm family occasions.
I’m from family vacations
And warm sandy beaches.
I’m from people who don’t care
And people who should have been cared for.
I’m from the winds of a city
And the long winding roads away from everyone else.
I’m from grass cutting
And then missing part of a thumb.
I am from forgotten birthdays
And really nice gifts.
I am from days in the pool
And nights in the park.
People forget and are never forgiven.
From nothing that is something,
And everyone that cares.
I look back at happy and sad things,
But in all,
Nothing really matters as long as you are with the ones who care.

I’m from growing up with my best
Friend and rarely being home
From always being at swim practice
And knowing that I’m loved
I’m from always eating brownies
Of our family recipe
From trips to other continents
And dreaming of adventure
I’m from loving rock and
Always reading books
From fatherless first years
And missing the golden coast
I am metal music and
Sad poetry I’m still a
Hopeless romantic chasing
The boy of my dreams
And I will always have my best friend,
My memories, and constantly
Knowing that I’m loved.
These things are almost me.