Where I'm From...

So I'm in the middle of a four-day training seminar for a new curriculum we'll be implementing this year. Sounds exciting, I know. My friend Gianni thinks four days is a little overkill (I couldn't agree more), but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't getting anything out of it. One of the poems that I'll be reading with my 10th grade classes is Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon. The students are then to create a poem using the same line-by-line format only with their own memories and experiences. We had to do this activity in the seminar. Here's my take:

I am from sunshine.
from a place I’ve never been but still calls my name.
I am from the palm trees that shade my backyard
(tall, regal, surviving).
I am from the sound of two languages that blend
seamlessly into one.

I’m from mi cielo, mi carino
from that r that rolls off your tongue.

I’m from the united
and the hand that won’t let go,
from the crowded hospital rooms
and the person who stays
(someone always stays).
I’m from laughter—always laughter—that
echoes into the empty driveway long after
the guests have gone.

I’m from the voice at the end of the phone line
whose words always ring true.
From the strength of walking away,
the letting go.

In a concrete island
I dreamt of salt water in my hair
and the sing-song voices carried to me by the breeze.
I am from these moments—from distance
but not from seperation.

~

And with that, my picture-of-the-day:
Suffice it to say, that s’more was a little crispy.