Where I'm From

I am from lavender warmth
And sheets in the summer breeze.
I am from the dew drying on the grass.
(Cool, wanting,
it would quench an unknown thirst.)
I am from the pear tree
the tall evergreen
whose perseverance and angst
I will hope to soon end mimicking.

I'm from cookies and her Sunday Best
from the different ladies that knew so well.
From the angry hearts,
and the meeker ones,
From Sit straight! and I love you, darling,
I'm from a black hole that's caving in
sucking the energy of the souls
who only come to worship.

I'm from Mother Teresa and the Rock God turned wholesome,
sleepy sundays and espresso machines.
From the days spent
in war
to the ones where we danced.

Under my bed was a library
harboring those stories,
worlds untouched and open
to forage when the sun went down.
That is my legacy--
time spent before things grew complicated--
running dazed round a maze so big.