In my parents backyard.

Childhood Pocahontas blanket 

over my shoulder.

Ain't it funny how mental instability 

brings you back home

where it all started?

Laying in my grandfather’s cot, 

under his peach tree.

He brought the seed

from Quila.

-The land he is always too

anxious to return to.

Every summer his peach tree

gives us an abundance of

gratifying

mini

green peaches.

Can’t find those in the store.

My grandfather’s hands.

My grandfather’s work.

I look up and I see the leaves. 

The blue sky.

I see why he chooses el campo.

I look to my right

and I see chiles.

I see nopales.

Precious.

There was once a time

when these same things

meant shame.

Thankful that the 

little seed of Mexico

sprouted in me.

Thankful to have a little bit of Mexico, 

through my grandfather.

Through my mother.

Through the land.

Childhood Pocahontas blanket 

over my shoulder.

Ain't it funny how mental instability 

brings you back home

where it all started?