Where I’m From
I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening,
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush
the Dutch elm
whose long-gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.
I'm from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I'm from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from Perk up! and Pipe down!
I'm from He restoreth my soul
with a cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.
I'm from Artemus and Billie's Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger,
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments--
snapped before I budded --
leaf-fall from the family tree.
- George Ella Lyon
Learn more about the origins of this poem, the "I Am From" project, and read Lyon's words of guidance to those who are inspired to write a version of their own here.
Syndicated from georgeellalyon.com.
Thank you for Your project and bringing Where I am From back into my consciousness.
I used George Ella Lyon's Where I Am From poem in Belize to break stereotypes between cultures and teach using the 5 senses and descriptive writing with ESL and high school students. We then did an exchange with a rural school in Pennsylvania where I lived at the time as a way to build bridges beyond stereotypes of America. It was a powerful experience for the students and teachers and me too.
I'd often thought of revisiting especially during this time of extreme polarization because as I traveled across the US in 2016, 17 & 19 on tour facilitating recovery from trauma sessions, I met people of all walks of life across all political views and underneath it all we all want to be heard and understood ♡
On Sep 23, 2021 Patrick Watters wrote:
Each one teach one from the heart, and may hearts shake hands with each other. Mitákuye oyàsin, hozho naasha doo, beannacht. }:- a.m.
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