Deep scars embedded in our psyche.
We were marred by loved ones we should call traitors.
We feel the need to hide the frayed nerve endings deep inside.
The repeated shocks to our system and sensibilities can make us mute.
But let’s not go quietly.
Our enemies expect silence from us.
But we deserve better than staying restrained.
Not screaming to the rafters calling out their crimes, buys them a better life than they are due.
The one we were owed.
Be strong, be loud and let your wounds heal.
Where I’m From is a poem by George Ella Lyon that has become a popular poem to mimic. I got this idea from Zarah Parker – Memoir of a Writer.
The title is pretty self-explanatory. Write a poem (or in whatever form you want) about where you’re from. (Here’s more about it.) Let me know if you try it out!
I’m from a city split in two.
I’m from a disorderly
MP – hung-over,
working his assignment
by the wall.
I’m from a pretty, insane
girl who caught
the eye of that uniform.
I’m from the connection
of their bad choices.
I’m from an alcohol-fueled
tryst, an act of
I’m from the place
of pastries named
after what I am.
Ich bin ein Berliner.