My Ancestors Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

The extent of my lineage, I can not trace
When I examine the features of my face…
There are many lines of unrecorded history.
There is a familiarity that creates a mystery.

Where does my endowment ultimately come from?
Who contributed to the human being I have become?
Questions sink into oblivion as my parents decompose.
Because of insufficient information I must foreclose.

Faceless forebears constructed an elaborate avenue.
I have had unique opportunities with no musty residue.
Often I wonder if they were saintly or a murderous kind.
Within the blood pulsing in my veins, they are intertwined.