Anyone else from this kind of town? It seems, in Indiana at least, that these towns are all too common. Inspiration for this poem struck when one day a professor began listing off potential topics to write about for an upcoming assignment—one being: write about where you are from. I found the simplicity of the topic to be fascinating, to simply write about where you’re from. Suddenly, this theme wasn’t so simple, it was actually very complex because where one is from can say a lot about a person, and I wanted to get to the bottom of that—whether that be good or bad.
I am from a nowhere town.
A town when mentioned
nothing comes to mind,
and not the kind of nothing
where anything is possible.
My nowhere town is unheard of
But known all too well.
My nowhere town defines me
But knows nothing of me.
My nowhere town is a mother’s hand,
Hard to let go of.
So no one does.
And so I fear
Neither will I.
Sometimes,
You hear of the few that left.
No one saw it coming
But everyone knew.
They are the ones we speak of—
“They always return.”
In my nowhere town,
Everybody’s trying to be somebody
But here is where bodies are born
Before plans are.
My nowhere town is glue,
What’re you
going to do?
You need it now.
And the nowhere town continues:
Your grandma, your grandpa
Your mom, your dad
Your brother, your sister
Their friends and yours too,
And now,
it’s got you.