Where I am From

Where I am From

I was born to the lion and the fish
and when I learned to walk
it was to the sound of sea foam against the shore
I knew the baying of the gulls
and the scent of ocean carried me with them until I learned to soar
and when the fish forgot to reach for me
my lioness taught me how to walk on wounded knees

I learned laughter in eyes of that lioness
with the heart that knew the blade and sting of battle
yet wore her scars proudly, and never let the cruelty
of a concrete jungle drag her down
who never got distracted by the hunt
until the proudness of two cubs grew outside
of her roughed battle-worn hide with its golden glow

My jungle song came no longer from the birthing
Of the morning sun above the shoreline
but from the frost tipped misty morning air
and birdsong from the high defying mountains
Where my infinite spreading ocean became a semblance of home

And as I grew I learned to move along an ink stained line
Where the curving of letters and verbs became my trembling legs to walk again
Where velvet fingertips could dance along a needles thread
and stain the pages with the sanguine of my soul bared
Telling the stories of the siren singing muse with little mercy or patience
Or time for excuses for that matter

I learned the sweetened taste and consequently the horrid burn of love
and the proceeding blossoming sour that follows its break
learning to forgive the tendering black and blue
that eventually does heal again, and again, and again.
Within strong arms of the lioness whose voice not roughened by age
sang away the worst of it.

I learned real terror the time I heard the soft crackling gasp
of my children’s first breath
The indescribable impossibility that with all my fumbling
I’d been handed something so delicately precious
Softer than the thinnest spun glass
And far more tough than the woman I’d became
Or would become yet.

Where I am from
Are late night sleepovers, and greasy Spanish food
Snuck glasses of cheap wine
and crowing laughter from the family
who pretended not to see but always watched
From survivors and the iron strength of family
The gift and test of years of true friends
Of heartaches and pints of ben and jerry’s
and really bad black and white movies
From a gypsy family who wandered
With proud and honest hearts
Who never forgot the meaning of happiness.