I AM FROM …
I am from underground forts and starry night skies
tree climbing 50 feet to the top.
I am from dusty dirt roads and waiting.
I am from Aunt Sally’s House with homemade cookies and “Would you like to stay?”
“Yes.”
I am from wildflower bouquets and constant wishing on petals or pennies or prayers.
I am from “When your mom gets better she will come back for you" and “You’re not my
daughter anyway.”
I am from pine needles and wind storms and rain.
Washington State.
I am from berry picking for pies and raking the leaves.
I am from wood stoves for heat and itchy arms full of logs for the fire.
I am from night time chores and can’t-see-in-the-dark trips to the compost
heart-thumping-alone.
I am from self soothing to sleep and master bedrooms locked.
I am from loud silence.
I am from “I’ll give you something to cry about" and “Sorry isn’t good enough.”
I am from pretty church dresses and a dollar for the offering.
I am from “Why can’t more kids be like you?” and the Sunday School van.
I am from repeating dreams of a heaven full of strangers and a paralyzing fear that I will be there alone.
I am from playing in the yard and my mother appears.
From a i r.
From God.
From California.
I am from now you see her now you don’t and
I
feel
nothing.
I am from summer trips to Sacramento
my unsafe birthplace.
I am from swimming pools and palm trees and mom’s too high to stay awake.
I wait.
I am from heroin in any form at any cost and she can't get enough.
I am from parole officers and drug tests and "I need you to pee in this cup for me."
I am from “Look at her!” and “You’re so big!” and the parade is over when I go home again.
I am from “You’re so lucky you have your aunt" and “You’re a spoiled brat.”
I am from fits of rage and public punishments.
Shame.
I am from "If you don't like it here you can leave" and then one day I do.
I am from running away and “can I live with you?”
I am from protective custody and moving to a foster home.
I am from “She looks just like a porcelain doll" and “Which room do you want, sweetie?”
I am from 2000 sit ups a day, bruises on my spine and trying not to eat.
I am from youth group and "I love Jesus" written on my jeans.
I am from modest dress and “Godly girls submit.”
I am from conservative small town America and a few good liberals get under my skin.
They win.
I am from Mr. Krupp's English class, root words and Shakespeare.
I am from asking hard questions and reading good books and writing it out.
I am from The Colour Purple and Things Fall Apart just in time.
Informed, transformed.
Just before I leave where I am from.