Happy 36th anniversary to my parents – two crazy kids who got this notion about forever and have ridden it out, over a few bumps here and there, trusting God along the way. I wrote this poem last year. It’s mostly about them. I love you, Mom and Dad.
Where I’m From
I am from Genesis 9:1.
I am from highways and rest stops,
from the VW bus with calico curtains and sticky vinyl seats
(I can hear the soft rip of summer skin pulling away from them).
I am from living room forts and stepped-on Legos
from trampolines and flickering porch lights.
It was too late if the streetlamps had come on.
I am from singalongs and family meetings around the butcher block table,
from the corner of each closet where I hastily scribbled
Goodbye, house. Til we meet again.
I am from clapping crowds, shouting for Jesus,
from secrets only sisters can share
on bunkbeds or creekbeds.
I am from laughter-tears and throat lumps,
from squeezed hands and mumbled prayers
from pregnant pauses
and whispered amens
I am from that moving target:
I am that knotted-up family.
The miles run through me
The prayers echo