Читать книгу The Carrying - Ada Limón - Страница 12

ANCESTORS

I’ve come here from the rocks, the bone-like chert,

obsidian, lava rock. I’ve come here from the trees—

chestnut, bay laurel, toyon, acacia, redwood, cedar,

one thousand oaks

that bend with moss and old-man’s beard.

I was born on a green couch on Carriger Road between

the vineyards and the horse pasture.

I don’t remember what I first saw, the brick of light

that unhinged me from the beginning. I don’t remember

my brother’s face, my mother, my father.

Later, I remember leaves, through car windows,

through bedroom windows, through the classroom window,

the way they shaded and patterned the ground, all that

power from roots. Imagine you must survive

without running? I’ve come from the lacing patterns of leaves,

I do not know where else I belong.