Where I'm From

I’m from flower soup

And conversations with Tulips.

I’m from teddy bears and reading to mourning doves

in the flower basket.

I am from endless laps around the vegetable garden

and rainbow cats on the refrigerator.

From the occasional “Where she at?”

from behind the couch, concealed.

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I’m from the bottom of a swimming pool

From my cousin’s swift action.

I’ve lived to tell the tale.

From being enrolled in swimming classes after that day.

My heart since became a hydrophilic ocean.

I’m from a sweet melody I sang to

my sister on her first day.

I’m from hiding her behind the couch

to read stories, sing lullabies, and annoy mama.

I’m from hair clips on my dog’s ears

and mischievous laughter

granting mercy none.

From hiding in my sister’s closet

and jumping out when she’s asleep.

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I’m from an artist’s gift and a writer’s blessing

in my misshapen index finger, over years of stories,

drawings, paintings, and poems.

And I am from the teachings of an exemplary cook, but contrariwise,

I am somehow from undercooked eggs, burnt pizzas,

and upside down pies.

I’m from an ever present hatred of split pea soup.

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I am from happy hearts and joyous earnings

From the rainbows refracted by the crystal

hanging in the window and reflected in my eyes.

I am from many colors.

I am green portrayed on a background of red,

containing gentle pink stripes

within vast polka dots of black.

I am from counting clouds and lightning bugs,

From melting ice cream cones.

-

I’m from watching candles flicker out in the tree house.

Seeing shadows grow in the evening

And then fade away.

The last leaf that falls from an oak

on a dreary November day.

From watching the sun sink eerily in the west.

I am from acid rain, warping away my former

life in my former residence.

-

I’m from a mockingbird in the evergreens

that flew into my chest.

It was one of the few things that made me feel,

made me feel like my true self.

The one that was gone; lost in the waters.

Thought to be ceased and faded with time

-

I am from the stillness.

I was a silenced tongue,

Like footsteps muffled by a quilt of snow.

“No one needs to know. It’s not important anyway.”

I am from words unspoken and never known.

That is what I used to be.

-

I am from a fire fueled by sunshine

and all the good in the world

in the family wood stove.

That’s why my grandpa called me “firebug."

My spirit is like a fire.

Given the right amount of kindling,

It will provide adequate warmth.

Given too much kindling,

the flames can spread and overheat.

That is precisely what happened.

Now, I am from a wildfire.

-

And so, I’m from the sun when it shines in the mornings

and the clouds that rain when it is storming.

I am short-tempered patience.

From honey and strong coffee at the start of each day.

Agile Disorientation. Love and Jealousy.

Timid speech and bold thoughts.

I’m from piercing arrows on my lips

and soothing angelic harps thereafter.

-

I am from unbelievable envy.

Jealousy thrives in my soul. I think she’s always been there,

Like a dent in a bread pan.

She walks like an aristocrat who has

nothing but empty words.

I am from my mother’s flowerbed, a wild rose.

-

I may come from the narrow-minded.

But I also come from observing the night sky.

From a shining celestial body in the universe,

Like the glow-in-the-dark stars on my sister’s ceiling.

I don’t know which one is mine,

but I know it’s out there somewhere,

shining with all of the celestial beauties.

I’m from a small family of dreamers,

gazing at the meteor showers, when I first realized that

I am from the shooting stars

sailing across the atmosphere.

-

I’m from talking to the walls and singing to the shadows

and seeing pages painted before my eyes,

before my heart, only known to me.

From favorite black-and-white films and novels

that dominate my inner thoughts.

Fighting villains by writing poems.

Saving friends by enduring my anger.

I’m from the fingerprint of imagination.

From the tired weeping willow by the river that

I always visited in the summer.

I am creativity in the flesh.

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Presently, my thoughts have influenced

my personality more than anything else,

I am from the Spice of Life,

words bubbling forth without end.

From slammed doors and hairbrushes

flung at the door

to apologies wanting to make amends.

I am the melody escaped from my lips,

wishing to soothe all that are willing to hear.

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Most importantly, I’m from the belief in myself

that every day is important.

It’s a part of my legend, my legacy I leave behind.

From words unspoken,

to the harsh ones yelled,

and the gentle ones whispered.

The past is a trace of who I was.

It makes me who I am today.

Which will make me who I am in the future.

Until then, I am from

“The present is all that matters.

Celebrate it.”