I Am From

By Kendall K

I am from a brown brick pre-war coop with 16 floors

and 65 units with a full time door man

I am from the flavored ice cart used as a reward

in order to bribe us to excel in elementary

I am from the deli employees that know my name

and order by heart

I am from confusion, I am from catcallers, I am

from humanity, I am from monkey bars

I am from my mother’s tears as she wept, seeing my

first few steps into headquarters in Vermont

I am from the paper birch that provided me with fire

in the February cold

I am from sleepless siren stoplight nights without

end, and crowded subway filled days without beginning

I am from Austrian immigrants who coupled up with

Polish refugees

I am from doctors who loved lawyers

I am from my skinned knee, I am from bouncing

back, and I am from blood, sweat and tears

I am from the blind eye my friends turned when

they saw me break

I am from my fear of the ocean, I am from

deception and resurrection and rejection

I am from jungle gyms

I am from Kindergarten crushes

I am from stubborn woman and angry men, and

from taco Tuesdays that are actually Wednesdays

I am from “she is clothed with strength and dignity;

she can laugh at the days to come, she speaks with

wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. . .”