I AM OF

I am of neither here or there. I am in between

Here and not yet

I am of liminal spaces on bated breath.

I am of two nationalities, separated at birth

I am of places floating by in windows of cars planes and trains.

My reflection the only still constant.

I am of “Ni Chi Fan Le Ma?”

I am of great walls and forbidden cities

I am of hands that grabbed me in curiosity

My tight blond curls as the prized possession

I am of babies in boxes and churches in homes

I am of albums of kodak photos; trying to memorize each one

I am of the melting pot of San Francisco

I am of ghost whipping cars 2Pac and E40 on blast

I am of redwoods and foggy oceans

I am of churches brought up by congregations

I am of sacred hymns, kyries, and liturgy

I am of a pastor and his wife

I am of a broken home ending in affairs

I am of painted horses and expansive skies

I am of bison rugs sleeping under the stars

I am of mountains valleys and rivers

I am of flour and toil, pastries in hand

I am of “Que Onda Guey?” “No manches!”

I am of slips and shakes and shatters

I am of “Vida De Mexico!” as people chant through the broken streets

I am of homes working with small children sold by their mothers

I am of oil on rice paper pouring wax from my brush

I am of water connecting me to everything

I am of a cultivated garden and curated gallery

I am of clay, forming and emulating the creator

I am of the binding of my being, where He mends me body and soul