I stem from a line of farmers
the hardcore, backbreaking, salt of the earth
who’d cling to whatever little they had
with pride of home and of hearth.
I stem from a long line of nothingness
paternal grandfather remains unknown.
And that could never be questioned
biological father quickly moved on.
I stem from smallness and countryside
fresh air and open wide views.
It still pulls me back from the city’s pulse
keeps me grounded in greens and blues.
My bloodline will one day end with me
as there is no one to carry on.
It is what it is, no question.
We’ll be forgotten when I am gone.
Although the prompt at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Dear Past/Dear Future, was to write a letter to either an ancestor or someone who’ll carry your bloodline into the future, this is what came out… So before I start feeling to sad for myself (for all sort of reasons connected to this topic) I’ll just make this my entry. I’m sorry for, once again, deviating from the intended prompt.