I am from glass owls, fleur de lis, and santa statues
I am from the white colum house on the levee that smells like grandma’s
I am from the magnolia trees and the lilacs with big petals
I’m from the large Christmas Eve dinners and big cheekbones
From Emile and Napoli
I’m from the nail biting and the stubborn attitude
I’m from early Sunday masses and  “Those who trust in the Lord will find new strength”
I’m from the promised land, Louisiana

the crawfish and italian fig cookies
From the grandma who ran away to get married, the rainy days spent sliding down the muddy levees, and a grandmother who is more a mother
The tables filled with pictures
From young to old, I grow up on that table
I am from a separated family divided by a wall of resentment, but with a small gate that looks like me