I Am From (Poem I Wrote #3)

I am From

I am from the scattered guitar picks

Orange flowers blooming in the lamplight

From the torn papers

Strewn across the tables

I am from the mellifluous plucking of strings

The constant hum of my daily life

I am from singing in the bathroom

From whistling our favorite songs

From the soft crooning of lullabies in the dark.

I am from the cracking paint,

The gutters sprouting with moss.

From the freezing winters,

The conservation of heating oil.

I am from the great pine outside my window

That I used to make shapes in

A hamster

Superman

Arms shackled with thorns

Watch me as I sleep.

I am from rushed Chanukahs

The candlelight dancing in the window

The lights turned down low

I am from the carefully planned Seders

With the Haroset piled gently in its place

The parsley-flicking wars

Flinging salt-water onto my glasses

Shouting, “Blood!” and “Beasts!”

Without a care in the world.

I am from the cold Belarusian winters

The hastily hidden cucumbers

From Shabbat by flickering candlelight

I am from the hurriedly packed belongings

Their carriers rushing to the port

I am from new beginnings

Image © Paula Bailey 2005

On a road paved in gold.