I found our history once, and it’s there for you if you look.
We sit on my mother’s book shelf.
We are three chapter books…
Mint blue covers hug us tightly.
Gold letters are carved on each volume one, two, and three.

Nova Scotia and Ireland belong to me,
And so does the sea.
When you find it -
It will be your story.

You’ll be added to the chapters,
And become a fish an uncle once caught,
You’ll be the salt that stung his skin bright red,
You’ll be chapped, but you’ll be a great captain.

Then you will change your name,
Drop the “o” from the front,
To save your children from any concerns of-
Not being more American…

Everyone seems to be born a woman,
And the name is lost forever.
But somehow it lives on in those ripped pages that sit on my mother’s bookshelf…
It lives on in the photos of black and white memories that sit in a shoe box in the basement…
And it lives on in you and me.