Genealogy Poems that I love~


We Are The Chosen
My feelings are in each family we are called to find the ancestors.To put flesh on their bones and make them live again, To tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve. To me, doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, Breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. We have been called as it were by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: Tell our story. So, we do. In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the ancestors you have a wonderful family, you would be proud of us? How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me? I cannot say. It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who I am and why I do the things I do? It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying I can’t let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it. It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up. Their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that they fought to make and keep us a Nation. It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us That we might be born who we are. That we might remember them. So we do.With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, Because we are them and they are us. So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation, To answer the call and take their place in the long line of family storytellers. That is why I do my family genealogy, And that is what calls those young and old to step up and put flesh on the bones. [Author: Della M. Cumming ca 1943.]
DEAR ANCESTOR:
~YOUR TOMBSTONE STANDS AMONG THE REST -NEGLECTED AND ALONE- THE NAME AND DATE HAVE WORN OFF THE WEATHERED MARBLE STONE IT REACHES OUT TO ALL WHO CARE. IT’S NOW TOO LATE TO MOURN  YOU DID NOT KNOW THAT I’D EXIST YOU DIED….AND I WAS BORN YET EACH OF US ARE CELLS OF YOU IN FLESH, IN BLOOD, IN BONE. OUR HEARTS CONTRACT AND BEAT A PULSE ENTIRELY NOT OUR OWN DEAR ANCESTOR, THE PLACE YOU FILLED SOME HUNDRED YEARS AGO SPREADS OUT AMONG THE ONES YOU LEFT WHO WOULD HAVE LOVED YOU SO I WONDER HOW YOU LIVED AND LOVED. I WONDER IF YOU KNEW THAT SOMEDAY I WOULD FIND THIS PLACE AND COME TO VISIT YOU~  {Author Unknown]
A Genealogist’s Prayer
Lord, help me dig into the past And sift the sands of time That I might find the roots that made This family tree of mine. Lord, help me trace the ancient roads On which my fathers trod, And led them through so many lands To find our present sod. Lord, help me find an ancient book Or dusty manuscript, That’s safely hidden now away In some forgotten crypt. Lord, let it bridge the gap that haunts My soul when I can’t find, The missing link between some name That ends the same as mine.  [Author Unknown]

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Tonia Allen Gould

Children's and Young Adult Author and Founder of the FInding Corte Magore Project

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