I am From

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)