who came before me

did any of my ancestors have hopes for me

did any of them kneel with no degree to their name trying to connect the pieces of their grandchildrens’ destiny

what would it be like to show them my tv

or my muddled pedigree, so weighed down, akin to a locust spree

there’s something inside that tells of my history

whether it’s strains of DNA or some undiscovered master key

i am the messy aether, the thrown together potpourri

of a bloody hyperbole of a family tree

i am trying to shoulder this burnt reality

that my ancestors who fought for my life couldn’t foresee

it’s unfair that i ever came to be in this horrific stinging world made of the mistakes of the bourgeoisie

but for now under this chestnut tree i feel the breeze and catch the scent of the sea

and i hope, i hope, that my ancestors didn’t spend forever down on their knee