Tree of Life

My family tree is an interesting creation,

as ancient as any, I’m certain,

but filled with gaps and empty spaces.

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Entire branches obscured from view

or severed from the whole,

the wood used to build family secret coffins.

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Such is the way with generational trauma, I suppose.

Lop off the hard memories, bury them deep,

and prune back any attempts to find greater understanding,

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the ‘why?’ behind the patterns, the habits,

the fears.

Because in my family, maybe like in yours, there were some things

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you just

didn’t

talk about.

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I know the roots run deep,

given the limited exploration

I’ve undertaken.

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On the distaff side,

a man named de Cuellar

entered New Spain in 1582.

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What he did there, the good,

the bad, the pain he may have caused,

the healing he may have undertaken,

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all that is lost. Nothing left of him

except mention of passage on a

ship named El Madrigal.

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But given my mother’s family history,

it feels like the karma of a colonizer

weighed heavy on the branches.

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On my father’s side, the tree has even more gaps,

empty spaces personified by trademark silence,

brooding, an unrelenting tension in his presence.

*

A volcano ready to erupt, a short fuse waiting

to be lit, the resulting explosion sending all

scrambling for calm and safety and respite.

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And never, throughout his life with us,

did we hear stories of his family: of his father,

his abuelo, of his tias or tios or cousins.

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Entire generations of his history,

locked away, never to be known, because he could not

or would not communicate it to us.

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I recognize now he just didn’t have the tools.

Perhaps he didn’t see the value in it,

or the stories brought up emotions in himself

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he could not understand or handle.

I can forgive him for that.

I do forgive him for that.

*

I’m in the autumn of my life now,

with winter soon arriving,

and I’ve created a couple branches of my own.

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I nurtured them as best I could,

made sure they knew and saw and heard

that they were loved and worthy and enough

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just as they are. Gratitude and love

are the best terms I can use to describe

my feelings for them, humble honors, both.

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I see their branches growing strong and resilient,

bringing honor and accomplishment and understanding

to our Tree of Life.

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I see their growth, my trials,

the tribulations of my parents,

the known and unknown doings of my ancestors,

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and I can only be content.