Life line
Words by Joy Balinbin | Photos by Lucía Plaza
My name does not reflect my heritage
My mouth could never grasp the right accent
My lips could never quite tumble forth the perfect rolled “r”
My feet did not learn how to dance folklorico or Apache crown dance, nor can
My hips pull off the perfect washing machine like Selena
But
My tongue knows the smokiness of New Mexico red chile
The perfect amount of honey to drip onto a sopaipilla
The slow heat of posole and green chile stew
The sweetness and crumble of fresh biscochitos
My hands know how to fill tamales
The precise softness and smoothness of masa
When to flip tortillas with my bare fingers
When to keep sprinkling cumino or oregano into a simmering pot
The steam caressing my face
Conjures the comforting embrace of my ancestors
For this lifeline,
I am forever grateful