The cry to belong reaches out to my heart
Shouting and smiling they compare face shapes and color
As they lay out a family tree that goes back generations
Never old enough to create memories of the stories
Vague recollections insufficient to create a vision.
Enough simply to create a longing
A desire to know their stories, to appear in their stories
To recognize them on the street or in a photograph.
But those that knew the faces, knew the stories are gone
A few cousins remain but we are strangers
Have always been strangers, their stories kept as if secret