Sleeping Giants

I am from the strong smell of fresh coffee

from where the mountains look like

sleeping giants

I am from the melody of my 

grandfather's harmonica, which

I hear in my head like if he were 

with me right now 

the rooster's call, waking me up

acres of farm with fruit every which way 

I am from the traditional taste

of rice, beans, and soft plantains

running around my grandfather's huge house

running away from my mother

to hide under my grandfather's Jeep

I am from a rainforest where you smell the

fresh air, the stars decorate the sky

and the warm air my blanket

I am from a place that I love

a place that is in great pain

but will get through it, even after that hurricane