I COME FROM...

I come from scarred knees,
And little girls refusing to wear bows.
Every tear was another story.

From cleared out living rooms to
"I'm sorry!" and broken candles.
I come from battle wounds.

My roots are found in glass shards,
laid upon the water;
sharp pains still haunt my elbow.

I come from floured dumplings with broth,
and lost games of ice hockey with the boys.
Those nights were colder than liquid nitrogen.

I come from broken tire swings,
and flipped canoes
which only Dakota could carry.

I come from 300 years of dry rot.
Dwellings built by men with aged pride.

I come from silent days in which
white noise was not it's equal;
to nights of earsplitting music,
the Deaf would be offended.

I come from salted pumpkin seed
and knotted hair,
bristles, twigs, and bubble gum had always been welcome.

I come from Women whose looks appear
deadlier than a shotgun;
sometimes this was found to be true.

I come from Men whose coarse hands and spiky beards
Are softer than you think.

I come from the comfort of my sisters,
and the protection of my brother.
We are little kids in the sandbox.

I come from little people
and tall ceilings.
Preen is infused with our height,
as insults fuel our underestimated egos.

I am from seeds
which have grown into trees
bigger than skyscrapers.
Some branches are bent,
and twisted, and strange.
Some are perfect.

I come from knowing
that how different we appear,
all of our roots are snug together,
and we are grown in the same dirt.