a patchwork poem.

(based on george ella lyon's poem 'where i'm from' – sewn together from the shared stories of farm folk during our morning devotions)

we are . . .

we are from travelers and passion, lost tv marathons and big heads, the church-going and the reserved, from christianity and healing, genericana and white.

we are from the suburbs, the development, the home sweet home and yankee candles, from the outlandishly silent, the cornfields, the rolling hills and bluegrass, the dust.

who loves the hammocks, basil, the smell of countryside, the wonder years, lovers, praying and industrial waste, trying.

we are from the tobacco state, the fields of cattle, from the compost, the soybeans, from bermuda grass, the red oak, from the waves, the spray, from the river, the changing current.

who fear rabid squirrels, cockroaches and being alone in the dark, embarrassment, death by drowning, stability, just getting a job, losing family.

who dream of being together, veggie-fueled buses, of wandering gypsies, bartering, of liberation.

residents of tejas!, heaven, anywhere and nowhere, nowhere and everywhere, nowhere.

we are from flesh, from bread and God, from dirt, from dr. bronners and cabbage, from the chronicles of narnia and porch swing evenings, from cherry pie and save-a-lot, yellow rubber gloves, from dawn detergent and blue sofa covers, keyboards, mousepads, and look-at-your-own-screen, hot water heaters, from General Electric.

we are from the meditative and radical, the stubborn and hard-working, the right, the reticent and suspiciously polite, the outreach and expression, from the broken ones who still cling.

from stay-away-from-danger and stay-away-from-dirt,
from you-really-hurt-your-mother's-feelings-when-you-don't-take-out-the-garbage and we-are-so-proud-of-your-report-card,
from don't-write-on-your-hand and don't-drink-and-chew-or-go-with-girls-who-do,
from God-loves-you and Jesus-loves-you,
from just-follow-what-the-clouds-tell-you and you-will-be-a-great-mother.

we are the lone star belt buckle of the bible belt, modern x-ianity, Christ, Jesus, from love-one-another.

we are from where cement grows, from beans and rice with cornbread and spinach, from bread and potatoes, ligonberries and swedish meatballs, tuna noodle and sweet tea and brownies, from honey bunches of oats and bean burgers.

from the Polio outbreak, from the farmer and the bible-thumper, from the poor white family and the business savvy, the college drop-outs and the wild young men who joined the Jesus movement and moved to a farm.

we are from leaves, sunburned beaches and beaches that sunburn, from homeschool groups, big gatherings and lonely years, from storage sheds, but more than that – from stories and memories.

we are . . .