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Sep 2010
I am from garbage trucks invading the streets,
bringing young ones to the window.
I am from the hum of the washer
bleeding into layered daydreams.
I am from charcoal painted on eyelids.
I am from opinions stronger than the smell of coffee.
I am from bones deep in closets,
buried by golden memories.
I am from the honey sweet songs
mama whispers.
I am from the deadly faces of strangers
and the suffocation of opinions
spewed as facts.
I am from the smoothest jazz
to the heaviest rock.
I am from
books with plastic casings
stacked high in the grass
on a sunny day.
I am from
every word or statement I have ever heard
to ever word or statement I will ever say.
I am from
late night fires
with sweet tea, the song of the night, and the light of the stars.
I am from
the soft smell
of a baby's head
to the feeling of thick smoke
filling tired lungs.
I am from the denial of death
to the hesitation of life.
I am from
smooth rocks under bare feet
to cold, harsh rain stinging sun-dried skin.
I am from strength
and weakness.
I am from me to you.
That
is where I am from.
Written by
Shelby Young
727
   Jennifer Watson and Tearani C
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