Where I'm From

(inspired by George Ella Lyon)


I am from warm ocean and sand between my toes,
from a hammock hung between two oak trees.
I am from the vegetable garden,
where my Jidou spoke to each plant
like it was an old friend.
I am from that palace made of stucco,
with its steep gravel driveway that skinned my knee
and, once upon a time, terrified me.

I am from that neighborhood
where everyone knows each other.
From fudge, and chocolate milk,
and clandestine root beer floats.
I’m from turkish coffee served with milk,
and snowcones that were more syrup than ice.

I’m from English breakfast served during Texas summer,
morning hafles, and days spent laughing
with uncles, aunts, cousins,
and—best of all—my sibling.
I’m from a marriage that was over before it started,
and now my own marriage,
full of trust and promise.

In my basement is a storage tub
full of all of my pictures,
a mess of captured memories
to haunt and comfort me.

I am from each of these moments—
so much foliage from the family tree.

Tears

Fear of you wakes me up more often than I like to admit.

Smugly, it whispers—
safe in the home you provided—

reminding me, always,
of my wrongness.

Guilt—
forged by Blood,
baptized in Tradition,
bestowed with Desperation—
that insidious chain shackling my dreams with pointless dread...

This is the second time in a week that it’s pulled me out of my bed.

To say nothing of the lifetime spent
bound to inanity and discontent.

But through the oceans of tears that I’ve shed,
I finally see the truth standing in your stead:

You cannot take away my Voice—
singing of Love,
speaking to Choice—

I am Myself
in all my glory,

and you are part of my story.

Seeking Solace

Stop.

But the word sticks on my tongue.

If it didn’t,
if I said it,
neither of you would listen.

I’ve spent my whole life
trying to appease you both—
a wasted effort.
I’ve learned that much at least,
at great cost.

You can’t stop.

And I’m finally learning that I can’t wait,
not anymore.

You see this knowledge in me,
and I see that both of you fear it.

If you would listen,
I would tell you
It’s not about you, not really.

But you won’t, so I won’t.

Instead, silently,
I’ll keep seeking my solace…

And I’ll stop it for you both.