This is Where
In the Louisiana night
Playing on a splintered gate
Another predator by my side
A heavy paw he placed
This is where
The cricket song and heavy air
Rallied the chirp and weight
In my gut
This is where
I found my voice
Carried over the chorus
Of evening bugs
This is where
The “no” that was not heard
Years before left me loud
Enough
This is where
The little me got bigger
Echoed “not again” and found me
Tough
This is where
I looked away from ponies
And willful stared into a monster’s face
Called his bluff
This is where
I put my childhood out to pasture
Beneath a southern summer sky
Grew up
Pushing off that splintered gate
My feet firm on Cajun ground
I walked away with my own brave
Too young, “I am a fighter now.”
-A.R.
Broken Gate by Dave Sandt
Inspired by the #ThisIsWhere project mentioned on NPR. This is the place, picture, memory, that came to me and would not leave. So I wrote it down.
sometimesihatemycat 
Evocative, poetic, haunting.
Then I accomplished what I was attempting to. The experience lingers, hopefully the poem does as well. Thank you.