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on beauty

Jan 10, 2008

She doesn’t see the crowd. And when she laughs. She laughs out loud.
– July, 2006

By Buffy

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Buffy

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Where I’m From

I am from country roads, Crisco and my grandfather’s violin. From the shadow on the wall. The smell of wood and rain. Grape crape myrtles, rhododendrons and muddy water. I am from Sunday afternoons and farmers. From Sullie, Virgie and Boo. The storytellers and the hand wavers. The hush and the holler. I am from tent arbors and cathedrals. ‘Down by the river’ and myrrh. From Rock, West Virginia. Mountaineers and Miners. Dumplings and beans. I am from Pa – who saw the mountain fall. From my brother – and a broken neck. I am from my grandmother’s wardrobe. A book of gold and red. Of were and is and…. Don’t forget.

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