Where I’m From
I am from a roll top desk full of closed drawers and covered with papers
from a homemade Care Bear and MTV blaring on the television.
I am from a place where you walked on eggshells
and spent hours separated, alone, and uncertain.
I am from a ponderosa pine
whose height makes you feel small.
I am from overflowing ashtrays and pecking roosters
from Gloria and Richard.
I am from loyalty and depression
and from chronic fatigue syndrome
from self doubt.
I am from Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
I am from my grandmothers Betty and Frances
from beans and noodles and cabbage rolls
from women raising children on their own
and from men hiding beer cans in the couch cushions.
I am from those moments of walking in the woods, toy gun pulled out in case of an emergency.
I am awakening.