Where Are You From — “I Am” Poem exercise
You can omit any lines if you’d like. You are welcome to add anything should you feel inspired. You can remove the formatting all together and free-write. Tell us about you— where you’re from
“I Am” Poem
I am from ________. (an every day item in your household, you can choose 1-3.)
I am from the ________. (description of your home, culture, community— sights, smells, tastes, feels)
I am from the ______ (plant, natural item, flower) whose long limbs (or any feature) I remember as if they were my own.
I am from ______ and _______, (a family tradition or trait)
I am from __________. (Family Members, or family habits, 1-3 each.)
I am from ________. (Foods you ate with your family)
I am from _______ (place of birth) and _______. (family origin(s))
I am from _________. (Stories of yourself, your family.)
I am from ________ (Family treasures, momentos) and I keep them __________. (on the wall, under your bed, in your heart, etc)
⟡
I am from back yards without fences and small, shabby corner stores shaded by trees who have seen generations pass than the sidewalks beneath them with gaping cracks, and the cratered pavement, who know what it means to survive many cold winters left bare only to emerge again with life.
I am from the olive tree and the sprouts of chick peas, whose bodies sacrificed their creation to nourish me before I was old enough to discern how odd this would be to my school friends who visited, and who gave me the first literal sense of bitter taste in my mouth before the world could.
I am from being a wallflower amongst passionate conversation, gossip in the kitchen and formidable sense of pride.
I am from the grape leaf and squash thoughtfully prepared repetitiously, filled with rice and lamb.
I am from New York and I’m of the middle east, and other parts unknown to me still.
I am from green cards, assimilation imposed by the fear of my elders, and the resilience of those who came before me who made my life possible from their sacrifice.
I am from cherry-wooden rosemary beads soaked in the holy waters of Jerusalem and tied with a green piece of cloth soaked in the Jordan River and I keep them somewhere I’ve told no one about— somewhere safe.