I am from incense
From water and candles
I am from the three prostrations
needed to enter the baai san (prayer room).
(cold, smooth, watchful tapestries)
I am from the pecan shells, the tree whose nuts
and leaves left small hills of muddy layers
I'm from ginger to contacts
From Ly to Tran
I'm from the headstrong
and the never-wrong
From mou jung! (useless)
and hou gaawi! (how obedient)
I'm from Nama Amituofo with Cha Lua
and Taking Refuge in the Gurus,
Buddha,
Dharma,
and Sangha
I’m from Sugar Land and Bellaire,
2% milk and Pork Sung sandwiches.
From Dad forcing my brother to stare at green
to fight our genetic astigmatism
to Mom making us chant mantras
with rosary beads on the way to school
In the neighborhood pool,
I pushed away floating junebugs
I am those moments—
Chalk on the cul-de-sac
Using George Ella Lyon's poem of the same name, this is her poem but as it pertains to me. Credit goes to her for the beautiful framework she's provided from many students practicing poetry.
