what makes me me

what makes me me

I am from…

By Henry H. Walker

I am from mountains(ˈmountn)
who escape(əˈskāp) the lowlands,
I am from the harsh(härSH) quiet of my brooding(ˈbro͞odiNG) father(ˈfäT͟Hər),
from the soft arms of my grandmother,
from the Rice(rīs) Krispie candy(ˈkandē) we would make together,
I am from the smile, the laugh, the giving of my mother,
I am the allure(əˈlo͝or) of an angel(ˈānjəl) biscuit(ˈbiskit), summer transparency(tranˈsparənsē) applesauce(ˈapəlˌsôs),
one more slice(slīs) of cake to make it even,

I am from classrooms of enforced(enˈfôrst) quiet
and the desperation(ˌdespəˈrāSHən) in a paperclip on the desk,

I am from the conflict(ˈkänˌflikt) of Matthew(ˈmaTHyo͞o) and John(jän),
the action of the Sermon(ˈsərmən) on the Mount(mount)
and the simple key of John 3.16,

I am from doors opening in the mind, in the heart,
I am from doors closing in the mind, in the heart,

I am from dreams of an immigrant(ˈimigrənt) who sought(sôt) “the city on a hill,”
and could not see the native peoples and yet saw witches(wiCH) in the woods,
I am dreams of a better future of another immigrant,
I am also from the nightmares(ˈnītˌme(ə)r) that build that future upon slavery(ˈslāvərē),
I am the pestilential(ˌpestəˈlenCHəl) swamp(swämp) that still pulls at us,
I am also the mountains that call us to rise(rīz) above,

my genes are solely(ˈsōl(l)ē) from the northwest of Europe
and then from the huddled(ˈhədl) tribalism(ˈtrībəˌlizəm)
of the male(māl), the white, Anglo(ˈaNGglō)-Saxon(ˈsaksən), and Protestant(ˈprätəstənt),

my soul(sōl) is pulled to the glory(ˈglôrē) that is God
that also manifests(ˈmanəˌfest) in difference from the narrowness(ˈnarō)
of what seeks to hold me,
for God is so much larger than gender, than color, than religion,

we can only hope to get a glimpse(glimps) of God
if we open ourselves to grow
toward the infinity(inˈfinitē) of God’s manifestation.

https://henryspoetry.blogspot.com/2018/08/what-makes-me-me.html