Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 24
When I think about my culture

I think about early saturday mornings

and my dad playing Chalino

out of his huge booming speakers.


I think of the smell of tres flores

and the cafe de olla

my grandma would let me sneak sips of

before I was alowed to drink coffee.


I think of the the hussle and bussle

of the pulga

on hot afternoons

and the smell of roasted peanuts

And even though I've lived

all of these things,

I also think ofΒ Β the times

I've forgoten words and had to explane what I mean

in a wreak of words


I think of the times

when foods were too spicy

or I was tired of

frejoles .

Did this make me less mexican? Was I loosing touch with my roots?

My culture is unique

I am Mexican-Americana; Chicana
Open for critique!
Written by
Danitza Lomeli  14/Cisgender Female/United States
(14/Cisgender Female/United States)   
169
   Danitza Lomeli
Please log in to view and add comments on poems