WHERE I’M FROMI am from coffee, from the stove or the pot - brewing, hot and strong.
I am from the warmth.
I am from the plant, the seed.
I am from Sunday dinners and hot tempers; quick to forgive. I am from my sister the proper, my sister the writer, my brother the rebel and my brother the warrior and from families who rarely speak.
I am from the need to please and the need to forget.
From the front porch where they found me and from Jone's Home.
I am Catholic. Cafeteria Catholic to traditionalist. Catechism classes to CCD. Folded hands, bent head, silent prayer, the taste of stale bread and cheap wine - utter stillness steeped in tradition.
I’m from Ireland and Slovenia, soda bread and goulash.
From the alligators under the couch in the library, liar's bumps, and beautifully crooked fingers, hiding money in books.
I am from black and white photos of Chantilly lace, evenings catching fireflies, late night campfires and dancing under the street lamps. I am from the garage that held the sweet smell of printer's ink to darkrooms filled with pungent chemical redolence. I am from broken hearts and shattered ever afters. I am from one to many funerals and one to many what ifs.
I am from sticky bar tops to laughable tips, from nightlife to SIN nights. I am one restaurant to another leading eventually to health insurance and a desk. I am from heart felt sighs, belly laughs and shining eyes brimming with wonder. I am from long nights, sweet nights, happy mornings watching sunrises while listening to soft breathing. I am from a place of contentment. I am from love.
Where I’m From poem. Copy this template and fill in the blanks. (inspired by our Bloggy Boot Camp Writer’s Workshop)
To read past submissions go here.