I am from Matilda, 

from Nestle and Barnes and Nobles.

I am from the dull lavender walls.

I am from the red roses, 

the green leaves that wither too quick 

I am from the bright colorful clothes 

and chocolate brown eyes , 

from her

and him and me. 

I am from the voices that sing together

and the quills of feathers that have run out of ink.

From Santa isn’t real

and don’t grow up too quickly .

I am from the moon and the star

Embodied by mosques with the hard carpeting and warm hearts

I’m from the villages of cool grass against bare feet 

 Crispy samosas that made mouths water and hot chai that sometimes burned the tongue.

From the exaggeration of school routes, 

the long walks by water, 

and the jungle nights spent all alone. 

I am from the old cracks in the walls, the blazing hot sun, 

the farming fields and buildings that contradict each other.