He makes beautiful things out of the dust {I am from}

September 24, 2013, Michaela Evanow, 9 Comments

I’m joining a synchroblog at shelovesmagazine today, on the prompt: I am from.

I am from the plain places, but also

from the gypsy and the bootlegger

turned prairie preacher.

I am from the rodeo cowboy and the superstitious,

from the redeemed and the made whole.

 

I am from the Pentecostal and the grassroots churches,

from the tongues of fire.

I am from “Jesus Loves Me”, the Music Machine and Psalty on cassette tapes.

I am from honour your father and mother.

I am from hot tears and anger and learning to say “I forgive you.”

Like I mean it.

 

I am from mincemeat pies and whipped cream at Christmas.

I am from hot black tea with cream and honey.

I am from the curly haired, the United Kingdom

and a hidden German tongue.

I am from Grandma’s sponge cake and buttercream birthday cakes.

I am from roasted lamb with mint jelly, roasted beef with horseradish.

I am from Prussia and Romania, from the Yiddish language and refugees.

I am from tea parties with Peter Rabbit cups and saucers.

I am from hot milk and honey when I couldn’t fall asleep.

I am from heroes but not of war, from singers, sewers and breadmakers.

I am from cabbage rolls and clotted cream with scones.

 

I am from the mother who gave me Baby Soft perfume,

Strawberry Shortcake lipgloss, and the Cabbage Patch doll

named Caleb, handed down from my brother.

I am from the father who gave scotch mints on Sundays

always hidden in his pockets with balled up tissue,

because he wasn’t afraid to cry

and eat candy in church.

I am from parents that gave.

I am from love that is whole.

 

I am from the neighbourhoods newly built

in the boom and in the blasted flat mountains

where trees were cut down for stucco houses.

I’m from fresh black asphalt that never got hot enough to fry an egg.

I am from the arbutus trees, the craggy rocks, the salty west coast.

I am from the green gray sea and the jellies that don’t sting.

 

I am from the tear stained and the faithful.

I am from the importance of prayer.

I am from the intercessors and thankful hearts.

I am from the way, the truth, the revivalists.

I am from the broken ones, the rib, and the dust.

I am from the beautiful things.

20130924-225435.jpgGrandma, Mum, Myself and Florence.

Where are you from? Won’t you join in and write with she loves magazine? Let me know if you do! Here’s a template if you need some help.

9 Comments

  • Reply Catherine September 29, 2013 at 6:35 AM

    I found your blog at the SheLoves synchro – my favorite lines are:
    “I am from the plain places, but also

    from the gypsy and the bootlegger

    turned prairie preacher.”

    I love the way you juxtapose such different ideas. It really gets the heart of things because we are all a blending of very different roots.

    • Reply Michaela. September 29, 2013 at 1:48 PM

      Thanks Catherine, for your kind compliment! And for visiting and taking time to comment. 🙂

  • Reply Christina Quist (@christinaquist) September 27, 2013 at 12:47 PM

    Psalty…oh my, the memories. Loved this Michaela!

    • Reply Michaela. September 27, 2013 at 1:24 PM

      I know right? The big blue Bible man. Tender spot in my heart for him!

  • Reply Wanda September 25, 2013 at 10:02 AM

    The music machine…I remember well. Thanks for sharing your poem. Found you through the link up!

    • Reply Michaela. September 25, 2013 at 10:54 AM

      hey Wanda,
      thanks for visiting. don’t you love those songs?!

  • Reply Kali September 25, 2013 at 9:18 AM

    So fun! What a heritage you have girl. Thanks for the link-up, haven’t seen that one before…maybe I can sneak back here to write today!?

    • Reply Michaela. September 25, 2013 at 9:38 AM

      Thanks! Yes Kali, do it! It’s such a fun one to do and I’d love to read yours.

  • Reply Jennifer Neyhart (@jeneyhart) September 25, 2013 at 9:03 AM

    Beautiful!

  • Leave a Reply