I am from sweaty shirts and black eyes.
From a mat with a circle that
forged my mind into iron.
I am from ridged ears and busted lips,
lips that smile wide when the ref thrusts my hand up in victory.
I am from grandpa's backyard,
whose soft green grass we watered with tears from broken egos
and nourished by laughs of children at play.
From winter jackets, deflated footballs, and rosy cheeks.
I am from games turning into fights,and fights turning to hugs.
I am from staying up late looking at the stars.
From 3 a.m. walks through town
with friends I would die for.
I am from rap music so loud the car shakes,
as we drive to get greasy Taco Bell grillers
I am from grandma’s kitchen
that smelled like cinnamon.
From 17 cousins, 16 aunts and uncles.
I am from Thanksgiving feasts,
loud but like heaven.