I am from country roads and open spaces.
From corn fields and the shoreline of Lake Michigan.
I am from my grandparent’s farm.
I’m from the sunrise peeking over the hill.
Oatmeal in the morning.
Metal grate clanging open, wood into stove.
Morning news up loud downstairs,
Upstairs snuggling under layers of blankets.
I am from love.
I’m from woodcutting bees.
From mashed potatoes with ketchup and a coffee drinking child.
From uncle’s teasing words, ‘it will stunt your growth’.
From 7 sets of aunts and uncles and dozens of cousins.
I am from family.
I am from sunsets over water.
Beach chairs and book in hand.
I am from book sales and libraries and love of history.
I’m from yellow legal pads and fountain pens.
From a love of words.
From classical music and pianos.
From grandmas and grandmas of songwriters.
I am from words and water.
I am from deep roots.
Stone monuments, names carved into history.
Local. State. National.
I am from passionate activism and passive determination.
I am from Quakers and colonials.
I’m from William and Rachel.
From pioneers and the non-violent and those who hid slaves.
I’m from 200 years of local land.
From cemeteries filled with ancestors and kin.
I’m from rootedness and family pride.
From distinctive traits and dominant genes.
I’m from Michigan and England.
I am from The Quaker Line, but not only.
I’m from those who unwittingly played a role in
The Indian Removal Act.
I am from conflict and contradiction.
I am from a sense of place.
A sense of belonging.
I am from deep roots and deep love.
I am from ocean crossings and mountain passes.
From pioneers who moved to settle.
Roots transplanted
But not severed.
I am from
and
I will go.
A new favorite song that I think fits the theme well.
Linking up with SheLoves for their I Am From synchroblog.
I love knowing where you’re from, Caris!
Wow! I love love love this, Caris.
A coffee drinking child? And mashed potatoes with ketchup. I love seeing you so uniquely.
I wish I could stand next to you and hear you speak this out. It’s proud and humbling and rooted. Beautiful!
Thank you for linking up, friend.
It made me cry when I finished. I have a few more posts I want to write about different aspects of moving away from all of this, but this captures the essence of my history, and so I just love it so much. Last night I didn’t know what you meant by an outline, but I love it. It’s so perfect for this kind of thing.
Drinking coffee at my grandparents is one of my favorite memories. I bet they started letting me when I wasw 7 or 8, and I was the only kid who drank it. They had those old small mugs that barely held anything, lol. I probably had more milk in my coffee than coffee, but I felt so grown-up.
And ketchup in mashed potatoes is still good, sometimes.
i can only imagine … the pathos in here is tangible.
I drank coffee too as a child, but it was instant coffee and really no big deal. I didn’t understand why people loved caffeine so much until I moved to Canada. 🙂
I look forward to reading more of what is here, Caris. Powerful.
Deeply satisfying and good. Love the part about conflict and contradiction. Love the part about words and water. And the picture at the cemetery! Fabulous. I may have to add a picture to mine. (You see now why I have to write first, read later?)
I wrote up a post today, but it’s been so long since I’ve written poetry, I think maybe it’s just for me. I did like my first lines, though:
I am from thrift-store saints
Holy candles and sage for smudging.
I loved picking out so much of our conversations about a sense of place and feeling rooted by family history in a place in your poem. I can’t wait to read more as you sort through it all and what it means, especially when you’re moving.
This feels so solid and rooted and warm. I loved reading it and it brought you to life for me.
Visiting from SheLoves.
Blessings,
Carolynn
So beautiful, Caris!
I still do ketchup with mashed potatoes. 🙂
Favorite line: “Roots transplanted. But not severed.”
I’m loving all these poems. I feel like they are such a neat glimpse into everyone’s lives. Very cool 🙂
‘I am from words and water’. Oh, this is so beautiful! I love that you can trace your family history back so far. I can only do it for a couple of generations,
Loved reading yours! I can relate, growing up on the family farm, but near Lake Erie in Canada. http://delightfilledart.wordpress.com/
Very nice Caris! I left mine on Tanya’s site since I don’t have a blog.