Where I'm From

I am from the green banks of Ireland,
from kettles filled with 'taters
and Celtic blues sung softly to the stars.

I am from the cabins of Virginia settlers,
folks who ventured to a new world
with only a Bible and a banjo.

I am from mothers with fey dreams
who know you're dying long before you do,
and from fathers who drink first,
fight later, and leave bloody prints
on the shores of their wives' beaches.

I am from a reverend who owned
whore houses and from grandparents
who set the West Virginia woods afire
while they made love.

I am from Mother Mary and the Mother Goddess
and Jesus Christ on a stick. I'm from the Shenandoah,
the slow-moving creek, oak trees and blackberries,
peaches and wine.

I am from the fires of World Wars and from spindles
that made thread, and needles that wheedled
thread into cloth that shone like gold.

From all this and more, am I; I am from black dresses,
red hair, cancers and heartache, from tombstones
and graves and moonshine whiskey
made from copper pipes.

My line stops with me; my womb yawns
like an empty cavern, barren and fruitless,
nothing will come forth to let another know
the necessity of the past,
to make it her own, to say to her,
"This is where you're from."


The template for this poem can be found here; the original poem that inspired the template can be found here. I read a poem on someone's blog from the template some time ago, but it's been such a while the blog has been removed and I don't know where that person got it from originally.