I am From 13


Today’s post was inspired by Idelette and her fantastic crew over at SheLoves Magazine. I don’t read those women often enough but they are earth movers and heart shakers. Thanks to them for this fun synchroblog. Share yours. (PS: you don’t even have to use the template, if you don’t wanna.) (PPS: I can’t figure out my spacing. Go with it.) 20130924-132830.jpg I am from copper bottomed pans and

percolating coffee from downtown and

the noise of people.

 

I am from impatiens and hydrangeas

The front yard empty sleeve stump of a tree we pulled down together

I’m from birthdays on the fourth of July and wild blue eyes

from rebels and peacemakers

I’m from the constant talking of storytellers and the zipped lip of maternal diplomacy

and from love—the love that makes us war, because we want to understand, to be understood. I am from grace and mercy, the sisters who taught us.

 

I’m from be anything you want and try everything you can

and thunderation of the coming generation.

I’m from Christmas Eve candles and luminaria

 

I’m from Lackawanna, Pittsburgh, Tulsa,  England and France. I’m from Germany and Poland and Scotland

I’m from potato salad I never ate and celery in icy glass jars

From justice who raised their fists at poverty

Fed the poor under the church eaves,

Lobbied the senate for restrictions,

Told the school board where to stick it.

I’m from almond torte and bathing babies in cottage sinks, from  jeweled turtle brooches and pages of unpublished books tucked into drawers that once held letters from the war, Folded and aging in the edges of my mind.

 

 

 


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