I am from Troutdale, from me.

I went to my first class last night, and out of a 'getting to know you' writing activity the following poem was born. I kinda liked it...it may not be good, I'm not really a poet, but it is what it is and I suppose I too am what I am.

Fui a mi primer clase de la maestría ayer, y de una actividad de 'conociéndonos' nació el siguiente poema. Me gustó un poco...puede ser que no sea bueno, ya que bien sé que no soy poeta, pero es lo que es, y supongo que yo tambien soy lo que soy. Empecé a hacer una traducción, pero se pierde demasiado...perdónenme esta vez pero a veces hay cosas que no se vale traducirlas porque pierden su esencia...y su rima también.

I am from Troutdale, from me.


I am from smelt runs
and blackberry jam and pie;
I am from a sea of women
who taught me to live right.

I am from braces and glasses
and too many fat girl jokes;
I am from rebirth and renewal
and contact lenses and diet coke.

I am from Mexico,
at least most recently,
from tortillas to mole
to sweet hibiscus tea;

I am from growing up old
far from home’s feel;
I am from learning from new friends
to thrive valiantly.

I am from cancer and transplants
and breaking my whole;
I am from sarcasm and poker faces
and eyebrow stubble and teary hope.