NaPoWriMo

We get Sundays off from the A-Z Challenge, but not so for NaPoWriMo. Regina writes today's poem that was inspired by George Ella Lyon.

Where I Am From

I’m from mesquite bushes and

Cicada shells put

under Grandpa’s hat.

I am from caliche soil

that doesn’t let water

soak in,

pecans picked,

piled high

in paper bags.

I am from a double-wide

trailer in

tornado’s way.

And burning sun that

rattlesnakes hid from.

I am from cowboy hat and

three-piece suit,

from Carol and Juan.

I’m from bible-reciting- holy-rollers and

oil-anointing artists.

I’m from horse trough swimming

afternoons,

sweet tea and tortillas made from masa.

From the eyesight Mother lost in

her right eye on her honeymoon.

Under my bed was

a pile of handmade toys.

A silent congregation awaiting

my goodnight prayers.

I am from those moments in

the dark when light seeped in.

A to Z Challenge

For the A-Z challenge, we decided to post a new and original poem every day (yipes!)  Today, Juliet tackles the letter "W" with an old poem she wrote with Regina by her side.

Where I'm From

I am sprung from a teenager’s lonely heart

from aching need

and misplaced affection,

from folk songs, 
long hair and blinding hope.

I am from outstretched arms 
and rowdy laughter, paired with 
balled-up grief turned bitter.

From Thomas and June, who spun matter, 
assembling the elements until a howling, dark-eyed girl emerged.

I am the sharp knife Opa used to chase Da into the Air Force.

I am the stench of smoke caught between car windows.

I am thick strands of seaweed 
amid knobby crimson toes, 
honey vanilla ice cream, and the alter of my mother’s conviction.

I am feathered hair, roller discos and glossy lips.

I am the timid child whose cautious first steps weren’t enough to protect her from the man/boy who lurked in the bushes.

I am the torn tights, sand-stung eyes and Girl Scout uniform never worn again.

I am fierce loyalty grasping the edges of fading light.

©2013 Juliet Bond All Rights Reserved