I've never accused myself of being a poet, and come to think of it, neither has anyone else. Here, though, is an attempt. This poem was written from a "template" of sorts. I was given a basic format, a formula to follow. Here is the result. I kinda like it. See what you think. If you're inspired, follow the format and tell me where YOU are from...
Where I’m From
I am from a cruelty that seems distant now.
From flying fists and fits of rage,
I am from indifference and isolation.
Loneliness, my salvation.
I am from the endless chores:
Cleaning dishes without water because it’s been shut off,
Caring for children who aren’t mine,
A mother who is herself a child,
And a man who is not my husband.
I am from a world that sits squarely on my shoulders,
But I don’t belong.
I’m from, “You think you’re better, don’t you?”
I’m from so long, farewell, to Hell with you, goodbye.
I’m from anything that’s better than this.
I’m from outside this place,
A higher place.
I’m from a husband who knows tenderness
And a child who has never known threat.
I am from large doses of daily, uninhibited laughter
that heals me.
I am from steak and king crab legs for no apparent reason
if that’s what I want,
And lights that come on when I flip the switch.
I am from a purpose that is defined
And a destiny that is uniquely mine.
I am from clarity.
I am from these moments--
A flower that has miraculously bloomed in a barren desert.