From The Ashes

I come from fruit trees bowed down in autumn heat
Dry golden hills, laurel floating on the breeze
From rumbling earth and seismographs
Suspension bridges that bow and sway

I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin again

I come from polished high-heeled shoes
Pastel blouses lipstick in a reddish hue
Peacocks and bulls on our family tree
Framed in glass over couch, under vinyl covering

I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin again

A ruined hotel, old colors on concrete
Laid out in pieces, craftsmen becoming obsolete
I come from running, backyard cartwheels
One board nailed on a branch, my play house in tiny tree

I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin again
I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin again

Where I come from, they talk with their hands
In a language I can’t speak, I can almost understand
I come from parents who almost never spoke
To one another after I was three years old

I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin
I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin
I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin
I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin
I come from the ashes
Of what was begun
What will begin
Again