Hometown Girl
I’m not your cookie-cutter
small-town girl.
I waffled between expectations and freedom.
Your Jesus doesn’t save –
he divides.
Frosty images and sharp tongues
over here,
me over there.
Generations of hometown girl misfits –
I’ve lived here for years;
you know me but not.
You denied me my purpose, my curiosity,
and your asses in pews never made it right.
Forty acres in the dappled sunlight –
you never made me a home.
Home isn’t a physical place –
it’s love,
it’s belonging,
it’s acceptance –
and it isn’t with you.
I finally chose freedom.
I escaped and I survived.
I celebrate by making my own home.
Cookie, waffle, Frosty…now I’m hungry…
Also, who had the 40 acres? I read that and my mind went to reparations…but nobody’s made reparations to you.
The 40 acres is in reference to some of the land my family owned.
Thanks! My mind went to “40 acres and a mule”.
Isn’t it amazing and heart-breaking how you can grow up with people and they haven’t the slightest idea who you are?