This is a response to the weekly challenge, Digging for Roots. A lot of teachers have used this poem to get students to write, and when I saw the challenge I thought I’d write my own variation. I’d love it if you imitated this wonderful poem and shared your version with me. As I write, I feel grateful for all the crew in the picture below, my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. You guys have a wonderful day.
I Come From
By Joni Koehler
After the original poem I Come From by Robert Seatter
I come from the end of a dirt lane,
walking home from school to the
yellow house with a tall porch,
cool in the summer and perfect
to fly from.
I come from handmade dresses,
blue and white gingham with
pink rickrack, too wide at the
I come from gospel sings, wooden pews,
sunlight through stained glass.
memorizing bible verses and the smell of grass.
I come from words, babbled, whispered,
chanted, changing, words.
I come from slender fingers clutching
a red apple, peeled in one long strip.
I come from love, the deep kind,
The kind that grew back into roots from
A great grand being you’ve never met.
The kind that grounds you against
I come from sadness, redemption,
From watching him comb his hair the
same way for thirty years.
I come from the
newness that washed through me
when I brought the new to life.
I come from her hands,
her eyes as she wakes me,
kisses me, faces me toward my life,
walking to school down the dusty lane.