Where I’m From

I’m from pots and pans
From homemade fricase soup
and aji Colorado and mote blanco.

I’m from the quincho
the delicious smell of BBQ
and the five o’clock tea.

I’m from the tall, beautiful, superior, and protective
Georgia trees
and the orange
and yellow leaves
from the pollen on my window frame.

I’m from the coldest night of the year
up in the mountains
close to the sky
eating marshmallow,
playing guitar, shouting rocket,
jumping the camp fire,
burning old things
I’m from San Juan.



I’m from the sweet talk
Wawai
and the licensing clan,
where one tells
and is important,
from the giver and selfless.


I’m from the Merced Church
early in the morning
and the flying dove.

I’m from the mountains
the cold on your hands
and burnt cheeks.
From a long line of generations
and strong political family.

I’m from morals and stories
From, to presidents, to senators and ministers
and from equality and democracy.

I’m from the crunchy—fresh bread
Maraqueta and cheese empanadas
from hot sauce to butter.

I’m from the summer up at Yungas,
where the house stands on a mountain
and is surrounded by clouds,
right under your feet.
From the clear river flowing
and the bougainvillea flower
and the breakfast table for twenty.

I’m from running around with no shoes
and muddy clothes from yesterday.
From playing with a ball in the streets
and eating helado de canela.

I’m from the old and new photos
on my grandparents wall
polished every day,
to keep from being forgotten.

What I Believe

I believe that waking up in the morning
with a hug,
is a blessing of god.

I believe in improvisation.
It can bring wonderful
random moments.

I believe in making a wish
at 11:11.

I believe you can make more friends
by becoming interested in others,
than trying to get other people interested in you.

I believe in the wonders of art.
I believe in imagination and creation.

I believe that 'natural talent' doesn’t exist,
you have to work to win a Noble Prize,
you have to work to win the Olympic Gold Medal.

I believe you should give yourself permission...
to do new things, random things, or basic things.


I believe in being mischievous,
it feels good every once in a while.

I believe you should break the mold,
do thing differently for once.

I believe you should dare to dream.
to dream
for whatever.

And I believe in God
in someone superior

whether it is many gods,

whether it is no god,
but just someone
who's out there.

After Wings

It’s cold,
It’s wet,
dark.
The walls are closing down on me
I’m trapped, wrapped so tight.
My wings are crushed
The wing of freedom
Motionless
Waiting
In this world turned upside down
Where all inside is unclear.
I’m hanging
by what feels
like the final thread of innocence.
Layer
After layer
I’m afraid
Of all I don’t understand.
I struggle
Through
What seemed a life time,
Finally
The day arrived…
Light pierces through the darkness
I freely stretch my wings
My wings of freedom
No longer dangling
by that silken thread.
Letting the freedom
camouflage my heart
I fly,
no longer trapped
Like a flower
in the sky.

It’s Another Friday

finally…
the days hold back
the stories waiting to be told
waiting and waiting until today.
I scroll down the list of friends.
I come upon the name of my cousin.
I click on the green bottom.
Every time I see the little loading sign
I wonder
how it’s possible
to talk from thousand and thousand miles away…
I see them on the screen, blurry
but enough to see there smiles.
We laugh, cry,
we talk about are struggles,
we make jokes,
talk about guys,
are adventures in school
and we count the months, the days to see each other.
But for now we are behind a camera…
Waiting for another Friday,
holding the stories waiting to be told
Waiting and waiting until
next time.

What Others Feel and No One Sees

A thoughtful person
Does not strive to overpower
Or control other people.
He values
Other
And considers.
He looks
For opportunities to help.
He thinks about others
Well being
Happiness
As well
As his own.

Last summer,
Was one that I will remember always.
It was filled
With wonderful moments, but
Sad ones too.

One day.
When I was out
In the streets of Bolivia
I saw a mother
And her seven little children
Walking with an expression
You could never name.
With a heavy bag on her back
Like if she was caring all her worries, struggles and fears.

Instantly,
I had a need
Of giving her
All I owned,
But I realized
I couldn’t.

A tight stomach
And the erge
Was running throw my body.

Could I do what everyone else does?
Give her some coins
And walk of like you made some big change?
No,
I couldn’t
I couldn’t do that
To someone who’s been holding
A big sign right in front of you
Saying:
“Help me please!”

I had
To do something
Something those kids and
Mother
Would remember
And say
Gee,
That was a thoughtful person

I couldn’t give them
A house,
Or a car,
Or one hundred bucks
Things that are material
But when I grow up
Could give
All me strength
And energy
To fight
For their health
Education
And make a farer world for them.
Although
Those things
Are hard to achieve
You don’t lose anything
If you try...

A thoughtful person
Does not strive to overpower
Or control other people.
He values
Other
And considers.
He looks
For opportunities to help.
He thinks about others
Well being
Happiness
As well
As his own.

What I Hope Will Happen This Year

When someone leaves his

or her country very young

One tends to forget many things

You forget the smells,

The color of the sky,

You forget the feeling of the cold,

You forget the faces,

smiles, and the laughter

Of the people you love…

You forget the happy moments in the past,

You forget the small details

Because

Over the years

The fragile mind

Beings to fade those moments...

It’s important to go back

And regain all those lost years.

This year I will become more alert to contact people far away.

One hug was not enough that day…

Last year we had lost the semi-final soccer game.

Tears of anger and sadness poured out of my eyes.

I saw the other team cheer

And wear a smile

That went from one side of the face to the other.

This year, I know we will win.

Tuneless, string less, it lies there is the dust,

Like some great thought on a forgotten page,

It sits there, the violin

In the dark

Waiting for someone

to wake its beautiful harmony.

This year I will be the one that wakes the beautiful instrument.

I stretch my arm forward and push back

The constant kick like a motor.

I’m swimming through a storms of doubts

Through my fears

Through my failures

Through my past and present

Swimming through joys and sadness

trying to go toward the shore

almost getting drowned by emotions

I’m swimming through my life

A place

where you will be confused,

confident

and content.

This year I will become stronger to get through the storm of emotions.

I see my sister’s fingers fly across the black and white keys

The melody growing as the days pass and turn in to years

I see her maturity become greater

At a speed I can not remember

I see she has flourished

But I just want the song to calm near the end

Because I’m afraid she will not ask for my help one day…

This year I will appreciate my sister a lot more.

This year I will become more alert to contact people far away.

This year, I know we will win.

This year I will be the one that wakes the beautiful instrument.

This year I will become stronger to get through the storm of emotions.

This year I will appreciate my sister a lot more.