BOOKS

I am from blankets,
Worn, dusty books and rain jackets,
From candles never used or done,
A gigantic family is where I’m from.

I am from trees reaching towards the sky,
From on the wall, ivy crawling high.
I am from long grass,
Hiding soccer balls in its mass,
And trees remaining red through every season that dares to pass.

I am from warm brie spread with jam,
From people whose ancestors said “Madame.”
I am from bread, I am from cheese,
From across oceans and across seas.

I am from “¡Bienvenido!” and “Dia dhuit!” galore,
From “Привет!” and “Goedendag!” to even “Bonjour!”
I am from my mother, I am from my father, and I am from their roots.
The places of their origins, from the origin of their ancestors, are now combined in cahoots.

I am from the power of King Erik of Sweden,
From the intelligence of Anne Frank,
From the rigorousness of Major Ridge,
And more people—who I wish I could thank.
My family is from countries, but not just one:
We are from everything and everyone.

by GL Reader | 1/12/2018