Before I learned to dream

Before I learned to dream

I pretended to find clues
etched in dust
secret passageways
underground tunnels
filling the cracks of these hollow blocks

These walls once echoed
with our bare feet
stepping over one another
for one more ice candy

The tin roof sang every rainstorm
each drop a small drum
while the wind hummed
a lullaby that put me to sleep

I secretly fed the street cats ham
They let me cradle them
in the our little hideaway
I built for the monsoon

My lola made a whole life
on soil that asked for nothing
more than what she had

She stayed when everyone left
she knows where the rain lingers
where roots run deep

Stories still find their way
to her doorstep
because she remembers
because she listens

The roar of train cars
outside my window
reminds me of you

You remain the soft echo
the answer to the question
“Where are you from?”