Doctor Grandma

I am (my ancestors),

They are carried deep within,

Embedded in my memory

are all the places they have been.

I am – my grandfather

reciting the Lord’s prayer,

in his low and formal voice,

with his head bowed low, 

I am – his courage,

hiding behind those German lines,

on a secret frightful mission

trying to make it back home,

I am – poor Dutch farmers,

moving south from Chicago,

selling vegetables in the summer time,

and trying to get by,

I am immigrant, I am Hollander,

sailing here with hopes and dreams,

I am 17-year-old great-grandmother,

on a ship from the old country,

I am also Scotch-Irish,

or English as the case may be,

migrating westward from Ohio

to the southern hills of Indiana,

I work for the Monon railroad,

working hard for my family,

move them a little farther north,

follow the tracks to industry,

I am poor boy in the north end,

studying hard for my degree,

first one ever to go that far,

first one to earn a PhD,

I am farmer, railroad worker,

car mechanic, security guard,

domestic worker,  church janitor,

painter and professor,

I am — all of these and more,

they are a part of me,

Stories of struggle embedded in my bones,

DNA memories mapped onto my own.

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