Remembering where I'm from

After reading this week's chapter by Linda Chirstensen, I was inspired to work on my own "Where I'm From" poem.  I've written one before for another class but I don't remember it.  For some reason, I felt like rhyming tonight.  Maybe I'm getting too used to reading Dr. Suess books.  I just love reading and hearing things that rhyme.  The rhythm of it makes me want to bob my head up and down. 

Anyways, I worked on my own poem tonight.  Its finished for now, maybe I'll change it later.  When I read it out loud to hear its rhythm, I have to admit that I teared up a little.  I was thinking a lot about my parents.  This poem can only say so much and their story is their own to tell.  Though our family life when I was a child was not peaceful, or safe and secure, I admire my parents for their bravery.  It took me a while to be brave too, but I'm getting there.  I have 5 surviving siblings.  My mom confided in my husband that when I was born, I was foretold to be a lucky one.  I don't work nearly as hard as my parents but I have so much more than they ever did.  I do attribute much of my good fortune to luck (and a truly patient husband), so I guess she was right.  This poem is for them.  I hope you guys enjoy the rhythm.



I am from food stamps and family
sewing machines and fist fights

(I'm the baby with the big noggin)

from rose gardens and gunshots
and sirens at night

I am from grocery cart vendors
and the corner mercados
from Nay and from Khan
and the Killing Fields too

I am from respect your elders
and the golden rule
from you must always help your family
and concentrate on school

I am from famine and feasts
our ancestors ate first
from mangoes and rice noodles
and jasmine water for thirst

I am from peeling yellow photographs
and a story filled with tears
from my mother's warm embrace
and my father's anger and fear

I am from luck and survival
strength and belt lashes
rage, love and laughter
and hope rising from ashes