Where I'm From

I am from coal,
from Crest and four-leaf clovers.
I am from blazing coke ovens
that looked like bear caves
stretched across the mountains.
I am from the four-o'clocks,
the arches of France,
a foxhole in the Bulge.
From hollers and crooked roads 
and the Trail of the Lonesome Pine. 





I'm from batons and silver charms
      from Minnie and Pearl
I'm from love letters
      and letter jackets, 
from a car that didn't go backwards.
I'm from Rock of Ages
     and John 3:16,
     choir robes, VBS, and potluck dinners.

I'm from Blackwood and Bonnie Blue,
corn bread and bacon gravy,
green beans and fat back.
From black lung my grandfathers
      inhaled deep inside the mountain,
and embroidered tea towels that say
their, share, spare, heir.

I'm from three hat boxes and a yellowed scrapbook
filled with deckled edge pictures
and brittle newspaper clippings.
Moments frozen in time
before I was formed in the womb
of where I'm from.

        * Inspired by George Ella Lyon's Where I'm From