Give me the roots of my mother’s land.
I’m cutting myself off from any war ridden memories
connected to my ancestors’ trash.

Don’t make me feel ashamed.
I don’t want to feel their misery any longer.
There’s an angst my parents have carried into this land
–a weight that was never theirs.
A weight that was never ours to carry.

Don’t ask me to be grateful.
Don’t tell me that I am here due to the fight of my ancestors.

I believe in a God who placed a seed of hope in my family tree.
And because of his loving,
we are here because of Him.

My children will not know me to be unloving, unavailable, intoxicated.
I will give my children the golden wealth that my ancestors never left behind.
My children will inherit stories, creativity, beauty.

Not this torn tone of impossibilities.

@jamyrey