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
Iβm 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 momentsβ 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.