I am...

I had a nice comment from a blogger in Australia, and on her wonderful blog I found this link, to a poetry exercise that I have seen before, in Mary Pipher's book, "Writing to Change the World".

I had to do it again...the outcome changes according to my perspective. I wrote this thinking of my mom and dad, and their roots deep in the farming community where I was born, and where I still feel a deep connection.



I AM FROM


I am from clothes lines, and early chores, from pin curls and Saturday night dances .

I am from bare feet running in sandy soil. I am from the woods and fields, the sun beams and shade, and fresh cut hay.

I am from the wild rose, the raspberry, the willow and the poplar.

I am from homesteads on Star Lake, from Ruby and Tennison and Bessie

I am from hard working woman and stubborn to the bone. From elbow grease and whistling girls come to no good end.

I am from families who lost four children to scarlet fever in five days, yet survived and were forgiven the spoiling of the fifth.

I am from exodus. From leaving the familiar to make whole new lives in the green places.

I'm from rhubarb pie and venison.

From double cousins, home made boats to cross the lake, fresh fish and the long winter walk in the dark to school.

I am from Ruby May's research, from those who think clearest with a hammer or a shovel or a cast iron pot in their hands. From those tied to the land like a name written in the family Bible. Inseparable, permanent.

I am from the long rows of names carved into stone, lying deep in the black earth in the Grassland cemetery...from Annie Partridge, from Stanchfield and Tennyson and Earl D'lancen and Wiliam Ballard.

And from Oliver.

I am from the pioneer. I am strong and I am free.