Where I Am From

 Where I am From

 

County Clare, the Cliffs of Moher:

Waves pounding the cliff 

White flume dancing in the air

Grass many shades of green

The wind’s tin whistle whines

“Tis the heartbeat of Ireland

In Clare—the poorest of the poor.

 

Manhasset Bay

Sand and blue water

The scent of seaweed ever-present

Home to oyster farmers, clam diggers, and

fishermen.

Men who mucked in mud, plied the waters,

to deliver bounty to their families, make a living.

Men wise to the rhythm of the tides, barometric pressure,

the sky’s forecast. 

 

I’m from:

famine children, immigrant stock:

 

Clorox, clotheslines, ironed shirts

 

Meatless Fridays,

 generous Sunday dinners: 

“Take a good bit, have yourself another slice…” 

a week of leftovers. 

 

Women gathered

around the kitchen table 

drinking copious cups of hot tea

from huge white ceramic cups,

sharing sticky buns,

laughter and tears in equal measure.

 

I’m from the Lewis clan:

Hearty Protestant stock

Men who sheltered and provided

for their children.

Helped their neighbors.

Role modeled decency and fairness

The Lewis brothers always praised

“Good men.”

 

I am a Lewis and a Lynch

an Us and a Them

a hybrid, a grafted tree

always knowing where I am from

always breaking new ground

 

Always waiting  

for the promised land

to emerge or is it to reemerge?

 

One family of man.