I Am From

bfloI am from Buffalo and winter and cold moon.
I am from smiling eyes.
I am from poem bursting in my chest too big so many dreams.
I am from good girl smart girl gifted girl talented girl singing girl.
I am from little sister and boxes and boxes of journals.
I am from the fire and the night I burned vows in the backyard.
I am from ash and how it turns to mud in your hands and washes away.
I am from noticing her ass and her breasts and the curve of her belly and hipbone
and I am from denial I am from delusion I am from illusion I am from we don’t talk
about that I am from we don’t talk anymore I am from boxing lessons in the barn
I am from NO I am from a slender glass bottle I am from sky.
I am from Indonesian kreteks and short of breath. I am from train whistle
and piano tears spilling eyes closed playing by ear. I am from unlikely rebel.
I am from the smell of rain on pavement.
I am from sledding fast down the hill screaming cheeks red bliss.
I am from skinny dipping and fresh water and woohoo and let’s go again.
I am from reserved and shy and don’t know what my voice sounds like
and those are the real women over there.
I am from self-knowing and self-doubt and lock stock barrel fairy tale gone bad.
I am from making shit up and putting it out there and seeing what happens.
I am from Israel. I am from desert. I am from forehead to ground. I am from prayer.
I am from lost and wandering and oh, God, why have you forsaken me.
I am from Esa Enai – where does my help come from? I am from singing out loud
while I walk and this is prayer.
I am from childbirth and breastfeeding and my children’s eyes and laughter.
I am from poems written on air. I am from poems written in dirt. I am from poems
written in flames and deep ocean currents.
I am from a thought, a word, an explosion, a whisper.
I am from waiting. I am from watching the rain.
I am from this moment. I am from last week’s news. I am from tomorrow’s promise.
I am from dread and other shoe dropping and show-stopping and how much is enough?
I am from quiet room. I am from listening hard.
I am from full moon nights and beginnings so ancient you have to squint to remember.
I am from so many tears. I am from city streets. I am from warm brick in the sun.
I am from every language.
I am from love.

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Last call to Dive Into Poetry this October :: registration closes Sunday, October 2. 

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