Whence I've Come

Moira Cevasco
2/18/07
Whence I’ve come

Shall I remember where I’m from?
From what and where and whence I’ve come?
The memories my mind has hummed
Fill endless pages, fondly thumbed.

Shall I recall those endless hours
In which I played in rainy showers?
The backyard days in contemplation,
And using my imagination.

My childhood friends of dolls and bears
Stay clutching close to swallow tears.
My room, the sacred place where I
Might pillowed sit and muffled cry

The kitchen hourly harbors smells,
And one can taste the air it tells.
The cooking clan I hover by,
Stealing bits of meal to try.

Minutes lapse in slowing pace
When plopping by the fire place.
The dog lays panting, fury, hot;
He turns to warm whatever’s not.

A yard with plants and twiggy trees
That never grew to fit my pleas.
Still I climbed, against command—
Landing deep in reprimand.

My home consists of conversation,
Talking faces, phrase quotation.
Together we’re a loud battalion
Stemming from a life Italian.

Shall I remember where I’m from?
From what and where and whence I’ve come?
The home that I so boldly pray
The world will never take away.