Monthly Archives: August 2022

Where I’m from

Where I’m From 

I am from call of duty,

from Playstation  and Xbox .

I am from an apartment building in the Bronx, large, dark, and smelling of chemicals .

I am from the park

the smell of grass that is mother nature 

I am from El barrio where spanish plays out loud 

And hair like annuel,

from Roselee 

And Libio and Libio II.

I am from the love 

And care.

From smart

and mature.

I am from the house of Jesus .

I’m from new york city with a bloodline of a puerto rican,

Pizza and sandwiches are my household choice of food.

From the immigrant grandpa who fled from cuba to live a life of freedom,

And a mother who sacrifice her teenage years to care for a son ,

and the father that had drug addiction who recovered to be a better father.

I am from a childhood of  struggle and sorrow.

I am from friends that created a brotherhood

I am from years of identity creation.

I am responsible for creating the legacy for the last name.  

Where I’m From

Where I’m From

Where I’m From

I am from dominoes
from Cafe Bustelo and corner bodegas.
I am from the concrete jungle, tall buildings, cigar smoke, loud music and street fights.
I am from the dandelions and daisies,
the pick, blow and make a wish and the decorations to put in my afro puffs.
I am from huge Sunday dinners and laughter,
from Rosetta
and Joseph and our blended family.
I am from the children putting on shows for the adults in living rooms
and dancing whenever good music is playing.
From it takes a village to raise a child and if you don’t stand up for something you will fall for anything.
I am from Baptist Christian faith. The songs touch the pits of your soul and you shout with your feet.
I’m from the South Bronx where my African American, Japanese, Dominican and Jamaican roots raised me.
Fresh cooked collard greens and tres leches cakes.
The list could go on for days but these hit the spot.
From the Great grandma beat up a man once she was tough and she owned a two barrel shot gun. “Not great-grandma” while laughing
and the Uncle with the slick back ponytail that always wears a cap. Under that cap he was Mr.Clean.
I am from the black and white photos on the wall at my great-grandma’s house in Tapma Florida. The children drawing with chalk on the sidewalks, jumping rope and playing tag. Scraped up knees and Mister Softee ice cream trucks. This may be have been the trenches to some but it has been paradise to me.

                                                                                By: Janee Everett

Where I’m from

I am from poverty

from rocks that I played as toy cars.

I am from the house made of earth and straw brick walls, clay tile roofs and soiled floors, from its freshness during the summer and its wet earth smell on rainy days.

I am from the wild cosmos flower valley,

The eight yellow petals and the green stem that covered the entire area.

I am from Saint Franscisto de Asis carnival on October 3rd,

and the strict, the humble and the respect,

from Maria del Carmen

and Esau and the Ayala’s.

I am from going to the field to work on the crops after school

and to feed the horses, donkeys and pigs.

From going to the mountains to cut firewood

and going to the springs in the mountains to bring spring water to drink.

I am from the Catholic church and school,

From going to church every Sunday and from having nun teachers.

I’m from Olinala, from Xixila and Xitopontla Mexico,

From the daily fried eggs with hot sauce breakfast to the refried beans lunch and dinner

From  my aunt Fausta who was said to be a sesame seed of all moles because she would be present in every celebration.

I am from memories stored in the closet,

from my sibling’s school graduations to my sister’ wedding.

Where I’m From

I am from widowed mothers

flower prints and baby perfume

I am from divine feminine love

and grief

I am from a land of palm trees and plantains

land of nostalgia

salsa and warmth

I am from dark skies

green terrains

soft grandmothers with green eyes

bagpipes and country scents

I am from the smell of Cuban coffee

grandfathers who laugh like thunder



all at once

I am from infinite mourning

and infinite growth