Where Are You From, Girl?

I am from where you pray over every meal you eat - whether in your bedroom or the dining room table.


I am from the line of the few crappy trailers that hold so many memories. It also happened to be the home of so many relatives before and after me.


I am from the dead tree stump my grandfather cut down in the wake of a tree falling on the house during the string of summer hurricanes. Three years feels like yesterday.


I am from my mother's story of American American body structures reaffirming my thick thighs and wide shoulders.


I am from the million photos lining the scrapbooks on my grandmothers bookshelf for all to witness.


I am from the many trials and tribulations that surround my family. You know, the ones that go deep a few decades plaguing my ancestors. Yeah, those.


I am from the family where no one is perfect, even me. Yet, a family I am proud to be.


I am from the ideals of life that tells you wealth is measured in good times and love, not money.


I am from the centuries of prayers to be free by my ancestors. It is a cloak that I wear proudly today.


And that is where I am from.


This poem is about: 
My family
My community


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