i am composed of vague thoughts and loose memories and choices made

my family tree’s branches have been shorn

a clean cut applied to each limb and at the upper half of a sturdy trunk

i look and see nothing

whispers of a heritage

whispers of a history

whispers of something

banished to the void by deliberate incisions

made by the women before me

a horrible storm came once upon a time and tore many of our branches away from us

threatening to take the trunk down with them,

so all the women of my family rose

and stirred to action

took that silver axe and sawed away the things that the wind sought

the ways we folded our clothes and said our prayers and remembered ourselves.

i can’t blame them

is it not the greatest proof of love to destroy yourself to save the ones you cherish?

to take your soul and char your past until it’s all assorted ashes?

they were scared

and they loved me, not knowing my name

and i love them, not knowing theirs