I am from the thunder storms and the lilacs.
The nectar from each small blossom is sweet.
From the green house in the city. A Pandora’s box
I am from lefse and quesadillas,
bad spellers and the gifted,
from Showalter and Alvarado.
Sticks and stones my break your bones,
but words can wound much deeper.
And bones heal.
I am from Christmas shoe boxes with toothpaste, mittens and Rose Art™ crayons.
From the Marie Sandvik center and the frowning old lady with the whistle around her neck.
I am from the HUGE snow piles on the outskirts of K-marts parking lots.
With John and Paul,
and I try to keep their hands warm by blowing on them while we wait for the bus.
I am from those that march to their own drummer.
I am from Conviction and Commitment; “Go into all the world” and the Great Commission.
I'm from Minnesota? California? Mexico?
I am from the North and the South.
(This poem is an inspired idea from here)