by Katharine Werthwine
inspired by Mari Aviles’ mini-lesson
I am from fresh cut grapefruit and coffee in the mornings
And — Wait, wait! Don’t tell me! — Public radio shall set you free.
I am from scones and mandel bread with tea in the afternoons
When the sunlight scrapes against the bark of our oak tree.
I am from warm hands on my forehead at night
And “May God bless you and keep you”
I am from long plane rides over black waters
And road trips detoured by belly laughs.
I am from candle smoke, waking or sleeping
And singing of Johnny long gone now
Along with all of those things blowin’ in the wind.
“May his light shine upon you”
I am from a girl painting her nails during an air raid.
And that unyielding faith that there isn’t anything tea can’t fix
(But if it does fail, there is always ice cream).
I am from a woman hungry at home and now hungry here,
But full of memories of cigarettes thrown over barbed wire.
“And may he free you from all unnecessary fear.”