I am from…

have you ever done one of these? I was introduced to the “I am from” form at a conference this week.

Honestly, as an adoptee, an immigrant, an exile from my own history I don’t do well with the perennial “where are you from?” questions that go with the accent. Talk to me of roots and I see an uprooted tree, waving helplessly to the gardener, pleading for replanting.

Not that I am unhappy with the soil that sustains me. I am in a good place. No regrets (as someone important once told me).

I am from nobody and nowhere.
I am from a city never seen,
a father never met,
born in regret.

I am from a fairy tale,
a babe in the woods plucked up
with wild mushrooms
in a basket, carried home.

I am from the church porch,
darkening trees dripping rain;
cries rise like prayers,
fall back with the solid air.

I am from the solid air where
the Spirit crowd-surfs all the saints,
lifted by the ancient chants
that makes the high candles dance.

I am from the father invisible,
born of a knitted womb.
I am from the dust to which I will return,
or else I am from nowhere, and from no one.

About Rosalind C Hughes

Rosalind C Hughes is a priest and author living near the shores of Lake Erie. After growing up in England and Wales, and living briefly in Singapore, she is now settled in Ohio. She serves an Episcopal church just outside Cleveland. Rosalind is the author of A Family Like Mine: Biblical Stories of Love, Loss, and Longing (Upper Room Books, 2020). She loves the lake, misses the ocean, and is finally coming to terms with snow.
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1 Response to I am from…

  1. DELL CLOVER says:

    Beautifully written

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