All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
I am from marbles and Duncan Hines,
and from the broach fastened around every pale neck on graduation.
I am from the wide, double-paned window
looking out on the clothes blowing in the wind on the line.
I am from the dying cottonwood,
the towering sunflower,
and the bleeding hearts that mean so much to her.
I am from the brown-hair-brown-eyed-barefooted children.
I am from Diana by grace,
Sadie and Peggy with pride,
and Wayne by fate.
I am from the stubborn and the stepped on,
from unplug the coffee maker and don’t put that on the top shelf.
I am from Billy Graham on channel fifteen,
and from a solitary bible resting on an aged cream colored doily
on the end table.
I am from the streets of Lubbock,
the corner gas station of Vernon,
and the dust of Lipscum County.
I am from chocolate icing and cornbread at every meal.
I am from the keys in his shirt pocket,
from the bubblegum in her lap,
and the tarantula crawling around his collar.
I am from roaring Chevys waiting by the mailbox on young summer nights.
I am from the rings on my fingers,
and the tear-stained letters in the hatbox.
I am from every photograph lining the dusty shelves.