Iowa Child

Iowa Child

by Sarah Hall Maney

I am an Iowa child

Part and product of the land on which I grew

Flat and open and straight, like

the farm roads that bordered the corn

Friendly and receptive, like the rich,

black soil that grows the corn

Simple, and plain, but productive,

Like the fields of soy beans and hay

Yes, I am an Iowa child

There have been times when

I have kept it hidden

Pretending somewhere, something, someone else

But today I stand with it

Drawing upon the strength of it -

Acknowledging the unique gifts

I share with it

Of course, an Iowa child has not many

deep, intriguing forests within -

Not many clear, refreshing lakes to draw upon

No lofty, grand mountain peaks to soar from

No yawning canyons to descend -

And I know my Iowa child must live

And come to terms with the part of me

That is controlled, precise, yearning

to be perfect -

Like the squared-off, ruler-straight rows

of hybrid seed corn

Perhaps I will never be

as exciting, as spontaneous,

as a tumbling Colorado mountain stream

As magnificent as a

crashing California ocean wave

As serene and stately as a Minnesota pine tree

But no matter

I am who I am

An Iowa child

And that is enough