I am from coming home with straw on my clothes and dirt in my hair 

I am from the small arena no one pays attention to 

I am from the house that isn’t old nor new 

I am from the stops and the starts 

I am from first generation in this country 

I am from Passover and Playwrights 

I am from the line between the rider and her horse, the girl and her pony 

I am from world traveler to home vacation and everything in between 

I am from the smell of smoke and salt in the air 

I am from Iraqi food on a warm summer night 

I am from Amsterdam to Israel with a whole day to spare

I am from the smell of airport coffee 

I am from the smell of a new book 

I am from waking up every morning ready to think 

I am from training and un training a green pony 

I am from the early morning excitement to the late night derbies 

I am from coming to the barn day after day 

I am from reading books and learning other people’s narratives 

I am from understanding what people don’t

I am from the ambition to learn 

I am from the blood tears and sweat that go into my riding 

I am from the texture of a book that my mom read when she was young 

This is where I am from