Where I’m From
I am from (wands of unimaginable power) unsharpened pencils,
from Beanie Boos and Island of the Blue Dolphins.
I am from the broken alarm clock and beige walls cool to the touch
in a room that wasn’t mine,
doors that locked from the outside,
and a silence I filled with hour-long ballads about anything and everything.
I am from the trees I would lie under as after-school traffic died down,
letting the branches protect me as I grew familiar with love and fear
from my usual spot in their dancing shade, settled next to friends on the sidewalk.
I’m from “Band! Ten-hut!” group dismissals
and the exhausted, victorious atmosphere
after every run of the show at every marching contest.
From Tobias Soriano and Alexis Palacio.
I’m from the blunt, nerdy humor of Parker Boyd
and the hours of deep conversation and beautiful,
well-spoken honesty of Lauren Cram.
From “you can’t be trusted” and “you’re the most real person I’ve ever met.”
I’m from delivering Lemonades and finding a community;
from Panama City Beach, where God showed me
that there’s always enough hope to keep existing.
I’m from Level of Concern by twenty øne piløts,
expired Earl Grey,
leaning against trees whose roots grew over the empty sidewalk and writing a song about it.
From the rocky creek I jumped into with Parker,
where I simultaneously got my first kiss
and a cool scar on the bottom of my right foot.
The stickers on someone’s guitar whose sound I thrive on after school,
the voices and laughter of people I’ve just met but couldn’t bear to lose.
Scattered throughout my room, tucked away in desk drawers and on bookshelves,
are folded letters and useless objects
I somehow manage to keep finding places for.
I am from the pink scars and salty tears
of everything I have ever experienced,
unhindered and separate from the realm of blood and descent.