I am from work gloves
From sack lunch and holey jeans
I am from the carpet of pine needles under my feet
I am from the leña that smells of vanilla
The ponderosa
Whose long-lost limbs I remember
As if they were my own.
Soy de alabados y artistas
I’m from Vigil and Aguilar
From mountain adventure and hunting of creatures
Whose long-lost limbs I remember
As if they were my own.
I’m from “work hard,” and “be brave,” and golden rules
I’m from the wild springs of the Ojo Sarco valley
I’m from quelites and chicos and atole
From micaceous clay on great-grandpa’s fingers and the story alive on grandma’s telar
Whose long-lost limbs I remember as if they were my own.
I am from the cold waters of the Rio Pueblo
I am from the wind blowing on my face hanging out the car window
I’m from primos, y risas, y abrazos
Whose long-lost limbs I remember as if they were my own.
