Where I am From

Where I am from

I am from sap

from maple syrup and chocolate chips

I am from the basement

(Sublime world of play and imagination)

 I am from the lilacs,

trees of the olive family

Whose violet flowers smelled of sweet honey

I 'm from chickadees that come to my hand,

and sunflower seeds that stay nestled in my palm,

until a blur of feathers capped and black and white  

comes, then takes, then goes

I’m from shortbread and brown eyes,

from Roach and Gauthier

I’m from the questioners 

and the bullied,

from Mon Petit Bonhomme! and don’t worry be happy!

I’m from shadows of angels on my bedroom wall

and experienced miracles.

From Mon Dieu est ma roche and butterflies,

Cardinals and red cedar 

I’m from brick house, 74, red bricks, brown bricks, and oak door  

from omelets and jasmine green tea

From the ability to ambulate that my Grand-papa 

lost to Multiple Sclerosis

and the hydrangeas from Wilda’s garden  

Pictures to me are not just pieces of paper

They are the only way I can know who I am

And where

I am from

The dandelion seeds that drift through the wind

And the samaras that come down like little helicopters

Upstairs in a closet memories,

flow like a raging river

a new world for me to explore

of pictures taken before I had

come into existence

A place where past hours become new hours

Of gazing into the eyes of those I was told were family

I sometimes imagine who they were what they said

I’m from those pictures faces, ink, and paper

Knowing why these pictures are worn

From family before me fumbling with them

Remembering past memories

Imagining what those memories could have been like

The memories from other generations

Hidden in the depths of the pictures

Middle Mindz