Where I'm From

I am from the Middle East,
From deserts and ruins.

I am from the heavily guarded house, with four different guards and spikes surrounding.
From the smoke, who's scent has come from far off in the distance.

I am from the small patch of grass,
The oasis between the sand.

I am from the Colombian groups and Bolivian friends.

From being able to do anything,
And from being cut from the soccer team.

I am from the catholic family,
The family that goes to church once every two years.

I'm from Colombians,
And a long family tree painted with yellow, blue, and red leaves.
But I'm from kebabs and shawermas.

From the time my sister fell off a camel,
The time my dad rolled down a sand dune,
And the time we watched shooting stars deep into the night, on top of the orange boulder, listening to the howls of the coyotes.

I am from those moments.
A latin tree cast into the East.
Where I am from is not where my sprout emerged from the ground, but where my branches reached out to the world.