My Voice

My voice first came

From…My mother’s touch

From my father’s soothing words

As they rocked me to sleep

Swaying back…and forth

Safe and secure

Eric Clapton’s acoustic guitar

Softly pulling my eyelids closed

My voice first came from

From the moment I burned my chin…my first scarred knee

Trying to smell fresh baked cookies

Inching too close to the hot pan

From Falling off the back porch

Where Aloe-vera and All Spice are cures for all

From snipe hunting in the cemetery and mud fight in the backyard

Flashlights poised and ready…grocery sack held high,waiting

Dirt stuck in places unmentionable

Breathing in the pungent, sweet smells

Of grass, peanut fields, and sweat

My voice came from southern funerals and southern weddings

Gnats and fans at battle under the hot sun

Kitchens and living rooms overflowing

With comfort food, tears and toasts

Our small town sucking in one large breath

Slowly exhaling as it gathers strength once again

My voice came from late night meteor showers

And camping out in tree forts

Lying out in the field behind the house

Binoculars and hot chocolate in hand

Pointing out constellations in between

Shooting stars falling into our dreams

After ghost stories and burnt marshmallows

My voice came from hot, humid afternoons sitting

On a grease-worn counter in Granddaddy’s gas station

Waiting anxiously for the first taste of fried, salted peanuts

And Coca-Cola, listening to my elders telling stories

Their rose-water perfume and pipe tobacco

Tickling my nose and enticing my tongue

From baseball games and backyard feats

Nervously chewing gum and sunflower seeds

Keeping Grandma away from the umpires

Parachutes made out of bed sheets and pantyhose

Taking great, running leaps off the tree fort…and flying!

For three seconds before chipping teeth and breaking limbs

My voice came from mooning tour buses

And dangerous plans of escape…

Perching eagerly on Anna’s front porch

Shouting “Ready, set, okay…now go!”

Mrs. Allene squawking “Chile, I’m gonna tan yo hide!”

Trampling her beautiful daisies and daylilies

Her prized flowerbed shortcutting the way home

From steaming sidewalks and home grown entertainment

Walking home from the pool after a late July rain

Bare feet splashing through puddles

Bearing ringworms and chiggers the next day

Rubbing alcohol and Monistat 7 slapped onto raw skin

From crazy hat parties and sweet surprises

Making chemo jokes to lighten the mood

“Sugar, at least you’ve got a pretty, round head.”

A Limo pulling up at each door with

Giggling women and margaritas on board

One last adventure before the radiation will begin

My voice came from 4th of July fiascoes

And “coming to Jesus” moments…flies and watermelon abound

Crazy uncles accidentally lighting a bag of fireworks

And Roman candles popping Grandma’s rear end

Making the Secret Service smile…for once

From warm Christmas mornings around Grandma’s fireplace

Family and friends feasting on soul food

Opening presents in Granddaddy’s lap

Siblings fighting over who inherits what

Impromptu skits and Jimmy Carter impressions

Our sides sore from laughter and strong eggnog

My voice came

From a small seed of hope

And a gentle push…from my father who said

To close your eyes and listen for what you can’t always see

From my mother who first said, “Baby, you done good.”

My voice came from

A place best seen for yourself…from a rare place in time

Where you can learn, laugh, and love all in one day

Where the sidewalks tell stories…where anything is possible

And nothing is too far out of reach

My voice belongs to Plains