Where I'm From

* Inspiration: George Ella Lyon's "Where I'm From" + Michelle Cassandra Johnson's Skill in Action: Radicalizing Your Yoga Practice to Create a Just World (Practice #1)

I am from the musty, pulpy pages of books read through Coke-bottle glasses,

the clean freshness of blue-lined notebooks, and the scribblings of sharp No. 2 pencils.

I am from Dove soap and Marlboro Reds, black keys and smooth ivories,

ice clinking against glass.

I’m from wood-fenced backyards, manicured lawns, and kites in trees,

from cascading yellow acacia blooms and

tangled vines of white, sweet-nectared honeysuckle,

sucked between pursed lips, never been kissed.

I am from leatherleaf fern, weeping willow, apple tree and oak,

ancient forest, ancestral knowledge, storyteller’s throne.

I’m from morning-made beds with crisp corners and neat piles of too many pillows,

loving attentiveness dressed in denial.

I’m from sailboats and skateboards, 10-speeds and 10-keys, smoke and mirrors,

the smell of fresh sawdust in the garage.

From mistrust, fortitude, and privilege.

From “You’re too loud” and “Don’t be so sensitive,” from “Say something nice or nothing at all,”

from conversations of laughter three layers deep.

I am from never talk about the hard things, a silent house full of too much noise.

I’m from he touched me there, I didn’t ask for it, and it’s all my fault.

I’m from god is everywhere and you can pray anywhere, but we never pray together.

I’m from sand, sun, fog, rolling hills, deep valley, from dry riverbed,

strawberry fields and long-legged rows of lettuce and broccoli.

From grill smoke thick in the air, family taco night, Sunday morning pancakes and jazz radio.

I am from Germany, Scotland, Canada,

from wartime suitcases packed with immigrants’ dreams and recipes from home,

carried south across the northern border, from eastern ice to western ocean.

I am from nowhere, not here, anywhere but here, and every place in between.