by Nadia Palma
I am from the handcrafted dream catcher,
From hawk feathers and clay beads.
I am from the small brown tepee, stained with earthly colors and hand prints from my long-gone ancestors who make their presence in passed down stories.
I am from the moss that grows beside the creek, from the dirt ground where the grizzly bear sleeps.
I am from getting together every Christmas, and a tendency for tattoos, from Brenda, and Nidia and Wesley.
I am from emptying the liquor cabinet, and crying to old country music.
From stop running around bare footed and do not touch that wild animal.
I am from spirituality, when believing the world speaks to you through nature and karma.
I am from Nicaragua, a tribe from Kukra and Miskito, from run dun and cassava cake.
From the time I took in a stray dog and when my uncle Nico passed out drunk on the kitchen sink.
I am from the photo album my mom keeps locked away in a secret compartment, where the sketched bunny rabbit sits at a tea party on the front cover.