I am from the red of the paprika,
From the golden dust it leaves behind
And the ting of spice it leaves in my mouth.
I am from a steaming bowl of chopped meat stew,
From floating vegetables and boiling potatoes,
From a salty broth of everything that is home.
I am from the spiral of a ‘Wasp’s Nest’,
Coated with a powdering of sugar that sticks to my hair,
From the sweet aroma of cinnamon suspended in the air,
And the honey that sticks to my fingers.
I am from the white of the egg I eat every morning,
From the sizzling of coconut oil I wake up to hear,
And the white of milk I pour in a glass.
I am from the cold of a blizzard,
From the pitter-patter of hail,
During which I was born.
I am from the crisp of a fresh layer of snow
And the hazard of icy roads
That creek and crack underfoot.
I am from a wide field of green my grandparents tend to,
From the blossoms of Spring flowers they’ve planted,
And the promise of endless adventure yet to be discovered.
I am from soft petals that tickle my skin,
From the smooth edges of dirt on my bare-feet,
And the gentle wind that sways my hair.
I am from my faith which strengthens me,
From the God who guides and protects me,
From the family that loves me and defines ‘home sweet home.’