In George Ella Lyon’s poem I Am From, Lyon was able to recreate a sense of what her home was like. Being at orientation week, I felt quite homesick. I felt the yearn to be with my parents and the things I was familiarized with. After reading Lyon’s poem, she inspired me to think about my home and what makes me miss it. I was able to find a template of her poem here


By Cher Xiong

I am from the burning hot chili peppers
From the cooking ladles and overused pots
I am from the dust collected on the aged air conditioner
I am from the home-grown cabbages wrapped upon itself
I am from eating with my ancestors and yelling casually
From Yeng and Zeng
I’m from the cooking for loved ones and playing games together
From you need to marry a wife one day and  you must take care of our parents
I am from Shamanism where our ancestors protect us
I am from the refugee camps that formed from persecution,
Steamed rice to boiled chicken
From the time my father spent as a prisoner for a war that the white skinned man forced my father to fight,
The blood and sweat my parents spent escaping the bullets sent by Vietnamese soldiers
The dusty counter over the long dormant fireplace
I am from the baby seedling growing from the ashes of burnt pine trees 

Here is a picture of me in Thailand a while back: