poem

I am from a deep long holler, from Harley Davidson and four wheeler rides.

I am from the third to last house on the left, clay dirt and sulfur creeks, loud pipes and louder laughter.

I am from the Queen Ann’s lace, the black eyed susans.

I am from “sit a spell” and “tellin tales” and a little bit of ornery, from Archie Glen and Lizzy Beth and Lipscomb .

I am from the mavericks and pioneers.

From be still and know and a real man(or woman) has calloused hands.

I am from thanking God for all I have even when it wasn’t much. From reaching out to help others no matter how little you had.  

I'm from a coal company house and Irish kings, from maize and haggis.

From a run-away rail car, the turn of the century boarding house, a motorcycle gang in California and the muddy fields of Woodstock.

I am from the hearts, minds and eyes; I am from the unbelievable, the scarred and the survivors. I am from love and loss, from obstacles and amazing grace