I’m from sand castles

Built from grain

Knocked down just to be built up again

I’m from warm, salty water

The waves crashing against me

Beckoning me with every push and pull

I’m from sore legs on the ocean pier

From neon lights and carnival tunes replacing 

a night light and lullabies

I’m from a heavy crown

 From pebbles forming an ancient wall

The Muralla Romana de lugo

protecting a province built up from nothing

From sweet leche and agua

From la nieta and te amo

I’m from compact city streets that never sleep

From the actors inhaling cigarettes outside the bare theatre

the glittering lights drawing nobody but me

I’m from different worlds whispering to each other through the paper thin walls 

From out of tune Hakuna Matata echoing off alleyways

 From new independence walking to the bakery alone

with just the sickly-sweet smell of fresh goods being worth the walk

I’m from kingdoms made of couch cushions 

The walls thick enough to protect me

from the deafening wars going on outside and

From both sides of soldiers using me as ammunition

But, I’m also from the battlefield 

The ricochet of screams upstairs 

From politics at the dinner table 

From the resistive left and explosive right

From the importance of communication 

But constantly being muted

I’m from fiery passion

burning everything to the ground 

From empty beds and missing parents in the morning 

but filled couches downstairs 

From looking out windows over and over

Only to find empty promises and rain checks