I am from the frog pond.
From Chicken Divan and grandma’s meatballs.
From apple trees and hay bales.
I am from the tire swing.
From Pampered Chef and Frito Lay.
I am from the old house on the hill
White, haunted, peeling, standing tall, and alone.
I am from Ellis Island,
Eleven proud letters consolidated in the machine.
Welcome to the American Dream.
I am from Canada.
From Toronto’s children’s hospital,
a faceless mother giving up her son,
From Severed roots to Williams as far as history can see.
Welcome to the American dream.
I am from Salty California air and Psalty the singing song book.
From the donut man, kids praise, and Maranatha music.
I am from the Jesus Movement.
From the outlined dove and Hawaiian shirts.
I am from the Fresh Coast
From “God Will Provide”
from Acquire the Fire, Fire Up, See you at the pole, Teen Mania ministries, power of one, Pastor’s conferences, and bible college.
I am from “singing praises to J-E-S-U-S, our savior” loud from the frog pond.
And the tire swing.
And hay bales.
And apple trees.
