I am from “biscuit” to “cookie,” from ManU to Thundering Herd—
genetically pre-disposed to love football of two kinds,
but failing on both counts
I am from Big Red Pack! to Spider Sports
—from political incorrectness to easily-squished arachnids—
—from red & white to blue & red to blue & who really cares—
I am from mountains that blaze red in October and white in the November
(don’t forget the two totaled cars and no broken bones),
and proud as the heavens are large
Almost Heaven is where I’m from,
found in the yellow light filtering through Wesley Chapel,
the name on a cradle roll,
the squished-as-sardines back staircase closet,
the stone floor echoing centuries of pilgrim prayers,
Irish drinking music masquerading as contemporary Christian,
pew races under an ark-shaped ceiling,
and a columbarium that is adamantly NOT a prayer garden.
I’m from the Magic Monastery,
where you can always go home
to communities that are of one piece.
I’m from finding this monastery in my own heart,
where “I voted for you in 1956”
to run with a cloud of witnesses.
I am from the Hallelujah Chorus,
contained in freckles and frizz and mild myopia
from reading—after lights out—about a frizzy, freckled girl’s
bend in the road.
Writing—or sharing—poetry is a new experience for me, but once again on this blog, Katie was my muse. She modeled a gorgeous poem after George Ella Lyon and encouraged her friends to do the same. So now I invite you:
write one… share one… link to it from your blog or share it in the comments… It doesn’t have to be profound (although Lyon’s is) or beautiful (although Katie’s is), but it could be merely a humble reflection of who we are and where we’re from (like mine :-)).