History- Ancestry

Childless, the lineage ends
with me-
poet,
my only legacy-
mere
words.
And the older I've become
the more my ancestry-
the tracing of my roots
holds a fascination
it's become an obsession
- almost.
Looking back
I delve past centuries
through wars and revolutions
migrations, land divisions-
( territories won and lost,
borders ever fluctuating...)
And I wade in time, in blood
memory
through generational trauma
that I infuse with
healing...
But I know of blessings also,
and majesty- lost.
And so, I call on you,
Vilma, Emma
my great and great- great grandmothers-
Magyar- Slovak brides of Ujhelyi men
- men descended from Swabian knights
under the service of King/ Saint Stephen.
From my mother I learned of this
heritage-
of the noble bloodline
and the aristocracy associated with the Ujhelyi
name.
Even she remembered a manor house,
vast orchards, a stable filled with
royal Lippizanners...
And the grandeur did survive- (an empire,
Triannon, 2 World Wars) but after '45,
an era had ended...
Today I scroll online,
look at the family tree-
that my uncle posted there
and I wonder were you, Kristina,
Eva
stubborn like me?
and your husbands' Ferenc, Gyula
as fiery- as their great and great-great
granddaughter?
No, it isn't suprizing
that I am heartened by a violin's
sound,
by the bold colored patterns
of embroidery,
for these awaken in me something ancient-
an origin debated
by even linguists-
the lineage
Magyar
but with older strains of-
Chuvash
Avar
Khazar
Hun
lost tribes-
names now spoken only by
- scholars.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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