I am from filthy bare feet
And a '94 Chevy truck
Ponytails and Rolled-down windows
Luscious green cornfields
The cleansing smell after it rains

I am from the fragrant aroma
Of warm chess pie
So fresh
I taste Grandmother's slanted cursive recipe

From their rolling farmland,
Imbedded into my soul
And four-wheeler rides at dusk
Holding on by Granddaddy's belt loops

I am from summer humidity,
Cherry sugar dripping
From a nearly bare Popsicle stick,
A sticky red grin on my face

I am from the potato chip sound
Of multi-colored leaves,
Crunching,
Underneath my feet

I am from the arm I broke
To satisfy my 1 1/2 year old curiosity
From sling and cast
As a reminder and punishment,
For taking that adventurous lunge

I am from God's thumbprint
His special mark on me
From my faithful assembly
At a country Baptist church
Among shady Walnut trees

I am from Sunday dinner
At T's house
From the creamy potato soup
And delicate lemon pie,
Prepared in love
I am from approaching heat,
Dirty hands,
And wood chips
Heaped high
Around blossoming Bradford Pears

I am from a healing breeze,
Winter's good-bye kiss
From Candyland sunsets
And blissful starry nights
Where the crickets reign

I am from the snap of a camera
Captured moments,
A tiny girl with straight, dark hair
And cornflower blue eyes
Kneeling in the yellow buttercups;
A teenager halfway smiling,
From the same patch of golden memories

Despite my young ignorance,
I understand my heritage and my core
These things aren’t what’s around me
Or what’s in my past…
They are what I will surely become