I am from antique brass vessels, from pristine sugar candies and brown coconut husks. I am from the burning residues of clay stoves. (Auburn, glowing hot, smelling like earthy barbeques.) I am from the banana orchards, the Indian lilac whose glossy green leaves with jagged edges guarded me with their bittersweet balms.

I’m from milk bread and aromas, from Abdel and Nadzma. I’m from the blessings-in-facades and the storms-in-glasses, from Get your Act together! I’m from The Subtle One/The Provider, with Oceans of Spirituality and The Throne Verse.

I’m from Black Veils and Moon Sightings, boiled sweet rice and melting egg desserts. From some empty nests my grandparents endured for decades, the neglects and praises my parents survived.

Stored in lockers of steel cabinets, were packs of coins and jewels, fast-disappearing bequests seared into my memories. I am from these untold stories: lost before I could read — skylights to the souls of my ancestors.