us all:

We are nearing the end of our poetry unit in grade seven, and while I feel we only scratched the surface there have been some amazing poems. I am very impressed with much of what I have seen. Watching you all write such heartfelt, open and authentic poems has reminded me that I too need to have a bout with the verse.

A few nights ago, I began to draft my I Am From poem. I was hoping to tinker and edit and play it with it some more, but every time I look at it I feel like it is done. I will release it into the universe now and see where it sticks.

us all: 

I am from the quiet rooms of only children
and loving parents
who didn't know how to try any harder.
Lost in a new wilderness
Lost in youth-
no one said it would be this hard.
   
I am from blame and forgiveness.
shame and power.
I am from empty bottles and full ash trays.
    all night labyrinths of political discourse
    the bent record player needles:
    crinkling and crackling over ridges
    tracing the fortunes of countless stories.

I am from Sunday's by the creek
redwoods watching
water striders puncturing the surface
the tension.
the sun.
the bliss.
I am from all things
exposed and hidden.

I am from drunken love and drunken tempers
    from the tight rope and the near falls
I am from the recovery
the endurance
the survival.

I am from pistachios and pomegranates
jasmine blossoms and saffron.
I am from compasses pointing east.
    mumbled prayers
    beneath her sheets and shrouds.    
I am from revolution and exile
a broken culture bought and sold.
    The price of oil is always high.
I'm from the hangman's noose and
    Friday Prayers.

I am from single moms
and good intentioned dads
from car accidents,
hospital rooms and broken bones.
I am from the terror in the dark.
Left alone:
I'm from growing up too fast
and endless promises
bound together by faith and time
held together
for now.
   
I am from the middle class
and just barely enough
and from never fitting in.
I am from the effeminate
the not too macho:
tender born and resilient
I am from skin and bones and lashes long.

I am from songs soft and tubes of paint
burnt umber and indigo
smeared canvasses and stained hands.
I am from songs loud and hard
and drenched in rage.

I am from the art that saves us all:
poems and songs and unnameable things
I am from within you
as you are from me.

I would love to hear your thoughts. It has been a great experience to explore these rooms through poetry. I cannot wait to read your finished poems and hopefully see them set free for others to read.