I thought about this poem as I pondered John 1:1-18 and the word becoming flesh. Jesus, no doubt, would have a very colorful "Where I'm From" poem. So, I took a little creative liberty and wrote "Where I'm From," the Word Made Flesh Edition.
I’m
from sawdust piles and dinner tables, from fishing boats and healing mud.
I am from unknown years lost to history, and imagination
set on fire – it feels mysterious and as inviting as the taste of fresh baked
bread.
I am from olive trees and salt
water stinging a blistered heel.
I’m
from silly puns and storytelling late at night,
from Joseph with a bruised
thumb that got caught between hammer and nail, and
Mary with her spontaneous singing that seems to welcome the world.
I’m from weird cousins, and Peter, James, and John, from Martha and
Mary.
I’m from laughing at
inappropriate times and overstaying my welcome.
I’m from “Child, why have you worried us like this?”
and “I’m your
mother, that’s why.”
I’m from Yahweh,
the God of my ancestors,
from faith that commands me to love – God, neighbor,
and enemy.
I’m from Bethlehem or
Nazareth, depending on which book you read.
I’m from red wine and broiled fish.
I’m from God’s heart with choirs
of angels singing into the night.
I’m
from a teen-aged girl awkwardly greeting exotic kings bearing incense and
oils.
I’m from an old book with gold-trimmed
yellowed pages curling up at the edges.
I am from flesh. I am from
heaven.
I am from diapers. I am from Gloria in excelsis Deo.
I am from shepherds. I am from stars.
I am from the word. I am the word.
I am from everywhere. I am from nowhere.
I am the word becoming flesh and pitching a
tent in a camp full of nobodies, and together, we become somebody, so that I
can be born in the heart of everybody.”
