I Am From Poem by Jessie Stowers

I am from crunchy haybales,
from John Henry's and Stop to Shop.
I am from the fire on the back patio.
Melted chocolate, crackling wood, and eyes stinging from the burning ash and smoke.
I am from colorful roses on the bushes,
lined against the house many colors of red.
I am from no traditions and anger issues and distant emotions.
From Webers and Stowers.
I am from the ignorant stubborns and inappropriate judgers.
From Grow Up! and You're a Child, Act Like It!
I am from Christians and nonbelievers mad because I don't believe same and different as them.
I am from the everlasting fields in Kansas,
Ancient way raising your meat, and stews for lack of money and too many mouths.
From the one regret of my mother, that regret being me.
The abusive and petrifying thing that is my father.
The long-lost pictures of forced smiles and a cowering child.
I am from the forced happiness of the arguments birthed from unfortunate circumstance.