I am from strong black coffee, from Top Ramen and Johnson&Johnson

I am from the dew covered swing set (slippery, cracking, it smelled like red clay)

I am from the blackberry bush, the crab apple tree, with its gold and pink flesh, like my own in the sweltering summer heat

I am from the gray and blue mountains and hard-headedness, from Uncle Chuck and Louis and Green

I am from the stubborn ones and know-it-alls, who can tell you a little bit about everything

From “Don’t color on the walls!” and “The ants don’t want you..”

I am from the long, stain glass windows with a savior whose eyes are wet with the sins of all of my brothers and sisters and a language that’s been translated over and over and over again

I’m from Arbory Court and Ronceverte, West VA, scotch bonnet peppers and sticky sweet southern iced tea

From the pink, jagged scar running across Papa’s arm, and the shiny, blue fabric of Sun Chil Kim that sits untouched in some forgotten shadow

I am from the gold and hickory bible that sits in its own glory, whose leaf thin pages taught me priorities and patience, a lasting representation of a God I learned to never fear and a family whose ties are rooted beyond the barrier of my own imagination