The Marks of Ancient Boundaries
We spent hours on ancestry.com
scanning spidery scripts
carefully writ by unknown hands,
searching lists of old-sold lands,
clicking link on link
through yards and yards of fading inks.
Following each computer hint
we combed old books for births and ages,
traced old tombs and databases,
looked for our known names and places.
Ancient boundaries, shadowed faces,
facts our forebears tried to hide,
never running how we’d think,
churned inside those hints and inks—
Searching for certainty,
needing documents,
at first we didn’t see
our history with Eve
or with Seth and Cain and Able—
Till we studied out the real story,
separated hidden truth
from our family’s prideful fable;
then, facing facts of real-time acts,
and looking honestly within, we knew—
God’s record lives indelibly
in each and every family tree;
the deeds of ancient yesterdays
infuse and then replay
within our current DNAs.
Dark history was encumbered
inside my family’s tree;
its seeds had taken root and grown
deep inside of me.
I cried out for forgiveness;
I cried out to be freed.
Fortunately, God heard.
He spoke.
His word was living seed.
His love lit light
to set me free
from all my shadowed ancestry
and birthed new love for family.
©Ginny Emery
A significantly different version of this poem
was published in Places, 2011, p. 73
