I am From
From the city of Semey in Kazakhstan
I am from sketches
From Troxevasin ointment and Albeni chocolate bars
From clothes scattered about the room
(tiresome, crumpled, those that you have to put back into the closet every day)
I am from apple trees and white roses
Whose aromas attract gazes and trigger reflexes
I am their offspring, outwardly simple, but with a surprise within
I am from fresh bread and interrupted words
From, ‘Well, you are a girl” and “Mind your tone”
I am from sweet Easter and noisy toi (Kazakh word for ‘feast’)
I am from great Semipalatinsk and modest Semey
From fatty meat and shortbread biscuits
From the heroism of my great-grandfather who reached Berlin
From the saddle of my mother who went horse riding
and from a
An old travel bag with a picture album inside –
This is me, this is us in it.
I Am From
I am from my T.Y. stuffed animals that used to come alive, from watching T.V. on my brown living room couch.
I am from playing dress-up when all the clothes were too big, from laying in bed wishing I was a big kid.
I am from scrapes on my knees from riding my pink and purple bike, from making bracelets all summer with my cousin and going on hikes.
I am from homemade backyard ice rinks and neighbourhood hangouts. I am from late nights with family and early morning vacations.
I am from the warmth of my home, busy, crazy, but loving. From family dinners at my house, where we laughed the whole time.
I am from my two big brothers, who taught me how to play hockey, and that time I got a black eye from a ball hockey ball.
I am from my Nanny’s brick house where I ate dessert before dinner, from my aunties house where all I ate was sugar.
I am from many cherished memories that I will remember always and forever. From loyal friends and a loving family.