A Buried Legacy

I walked through the cemetery
intending to find
paternal predecessors
of my unborn son's family line.
Each headstone
rose above grounds
well kept and sanctified,
peacefulness prevailed
though I knew it was a lie.

I considered each grave
that bore the family name
and wondered as I passed
with whom the legacy was born.
This pattern of dysfunction
passed from father to son
as if it were a coveted heirloom,
carefully preserved
and proudly bestowed.

I gingerly touched
my swollen bruised eyes
attempting to focus
on names
deeply etched in marble.
Which one marked the sanctuary
of the first ancient legend,
the one whom all the others
would blindly follow?

It was to him
that I would consecrate a vow.

There I stood alone
in a cold stone garden,
a confused, determined victim
that the occupants of these graves
once bequeathed.
I was not sure which one to address
so to all of them
I rose a defiant voice...

'Sirs, I've come to dispute
your unwritten contract,
the one which each member
of this family
has been eternally bound.
Though I don't know who
originally proposed it,
I do know
with whom it will cease.'

I placed a hand
upon my protruding belly,
then turned my back
to their beds of unrest.
I buried a family legacy,
that day,
there on the cemetery grounds.

by Gina Marie Moody

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