Where I'm From
I am from quilts, from Hershey's Kisses, and nicotine
I am from the cul-de-sac beside the tracks
tough, sunny, smelling of chlorine
I am from the crab apple trees with tart treats
from the grass burned in a lightning storm
I am from Dewey beach and long toes, from Sheaffers
Monicks, and Tews
I am from the quaintness and belligerence.
From "cry til the cows come home" and "do the dishes."
I am from Camp Rudolph and VBS missions and baptizing my friend
in the pool during recess
I'm from Carlisle, German brethren, mashed potatoes and Lebanon bologna
From the loss of Chuck's ear in the car accident, the coma and day my Pappy died
I am from on the shelf in the upstairs hall, yellowing with age and peeling off the pages
empty spaces where moments were spirited away
to hide among our possessions
Murmuring of happier times before life was complicated.
Note: This poem is from a template but the content is my own. I had to do this for a counseling course and had no idea how it could strike beneath the layers of emotional scar tissue and re-expose the old wounds I thought I had buried. I'm posting this here so as not to forget the moment I chose to begin to heal rather than to just pretend the pain isn't there. I am not bitter, I am not angry at anyone or anything, just coming to grips with how the experiences of my youth have shaped the person I've become and what that will mean for where tomorrow leads. If you want the template, I will give it upon request.