Where You’re From

Where you’re from 

Is who you are,

Your mouth shaped 

By the sounds you hear,

Sounds that teach you 

To make sound.

The music, like the epic,

Is always local.

Take it with you.

Tell it so that others

Can claim it,

And you’ll always be home.

Think of it like this:

Your voice

Like the wind in the treetops

Feeds precious air

Into the length of your body

Grows your roots 

Like the slender fingers 

Of a fine pianist

Into soft, secret earth

That fits like a glove.

Know this secret:

Trees love music

And they know how to dance.

This is how stories travel,

And this is how you know

That you are home:

You hear them.