I’m from blue scrubs and big black boots,

locks of wheat, and dark sunglasses.

From the roaring of jets and shouting of commands,

scars of white in the sky,

and the reveille.

I’m from uniforms and colored ribbons. 

From early starts on Sundays,

with marshmallow lambs,

and his ten commands. 

I am from the long days traveling coast to coast.

From empty houses and filled cardboard boxes,

tears, and packing tape.

I am from long video chats, phone calls,

broken promises.

From the words “ This is our life,” “ Push through,” “ It’s almost over,”.

I am from Blattman, Heller, Oriole,

Peleiholani, Martian, Meir Henry,

and Island Veiw Roads.

From garden spaces and wish for roots in places.

I am from charcoal sketches and stained hands.

From beats and lyrics always reminding me of whom I am.

I’m from the struggles and sacrifices made

to keep this country safe,

home or the free and land of the brave.