I am from the sound of the swaying

willow hitting the kitchen window 

I am from the ticking clocks in the

back rooms of my grandmothers house

I'm from the walls that held 4 generations

Of strong headed women

From the Christmas Cactuses

The artic moss

Where I used to sit and bask

In the sun with my grandmother

I'm from the snow birds resting on

The faded sea foam green house

I am from currant jelly

[Blood Red, Bitter tasting]

The smell of Caribou soup

Hot on the stove after school

I am from the rising bread dough

On the kitchen table

From the fake flowers sitting

On the windowsill

I am from the shuffling of cards

From games like Skip-Bo and Snirtz

I am from dance parties in the kitchen with

the sound of old country gospel music

playing in the background as a child

I am the girl sitting next to her

grandmother on the Tundra with their

blueberry stained books in the baking sun

I am from the hard candy wrappers

littering the bed at night

I am from my Tiddle duck,and hi grandmas girl

I am also from the sound of a beeping

dialysis machine in the dead of night

From the smell of hospital rooms

I'm from the florescent lights in the hallways

I am from my grandmothers crooked fingers

After years of working to provide for her family

I am from the voice that used to read

Me books as a little girl in kindergarten

I am from a woman who raised 7 children and

10 grandchildren almost all on her own

I am from the willow in front of my grandmothers

Kitchen window, still growing,

Still thriving, still learning

I am from photo graphs filling the ghost white walls

I am from those moments and so many more

That I can't fit into a single poem.

But I am from a place of love

Still rooted deep inside my heart.