Written in Blood

I have a hard time sticking with it when I write
I start poems and never come back, abandoning more words than I work into full pieces
I have felt bad about this my whole life
It’s a part of my ancestry to move on and
never look back
I can barely trace a few generations
because I come from a long line of starting anew
Over and over again
leaving behind more history
than my relations can remember
this trait is part of my family
part of me;
a writer who leaves words behind
A daughter who has little
left to recall because
fresh starts smother old stories
I have mourned the roots I do not know
forgiving and honoring that
some things
no one wants to carry forward

Some say: those that don’t know the past are doomed to repeat it
Some say: bloodlines and traditions keep people full of purpose
Some say: knowing where you come from gives you direction

I say:
my people have spent generations
swallowing the coals they were forced to walk on
so that I wouldn’t know that I am the first to
have skin on my feet
My people burned their tongues out trying to protect me

Some struggles don’t have glory or redemption as an ending
They just hope the new beginning
can be the place
the story starts
I may abandon more words than I work into full pieces
But the pieces I deliver
are worth hearing
worth sharing
worth remembering
honoring all the names that made it though
validating all the gaps and abandoned beginnings

I have felt good about this my whole life.

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