I Am From...

I am from the tiny white grains of Oryza Sativa
From the aromatic scents of fish sauce and vinegar.
I am from the primitive, handcrafted bamboo house
With a roof made of eco-friendly and feather-leaved palms,
Savored with the smell of flickering lantern kerosene,
engulfed with the light of loud, contagious laughter,
Swamped with the grilling taste of eggplants on top of the crackling wood fire.

I am from the long, sturdy vine of wild yam or a mountain potato,
The Santol tree whose long-gone limbs I remember as if they were my own.

I am from a family of six that sleep all together in the only room in the house.
From the alcoholic Elpidio and the faint-hearted Reynalda.
I am from early to bed, early to rise,
From Christmases with no present, but mere presence.

I am from the strain of poverty and hopelessness,
And “Education is priceless that no one can buy it.”
I am from performing hard labor in the green fields
And taking breaks under the bushy tree of shades.

I am from the hopes and dreams of Brookside,
And the river with overflowing love, generosity,
Kindness and perseverance,
As well as having meals with my innocent hands.

I am from the agonizing thoughts of slavery and oppression,
The hidden thoughts of no degrees,
                                        No careers
                                        No families
                                        No choices but to stay the same
Buried under the funk, deep and sullen.

I am from the scarcity of “Believe in Yourself!”,
From the dearth of “I can do this!”,
And from the lapses of “You are enough!”
I am from the depths of isolation and loneliness,
I am from the unexpressed emotions and controlled vibrations.

Furthermore, I am from the sorrowful plate of the past,
Revived and renewed with the present self-love,
Rejuvenated, refreshed with the glimpse of a bountiful time to come.