Ancestors

Somehow I dislike ancestor tracing,

that dreary nostalgia for men of the past,

and women, their struggles,

all they went through to get me.

It’s laziness, I guess, to embrace my ignorance.

I can muster some love for my parents and grandparents,

but beyond that, I’m dead. They’re dead.

And who cares about certain, specific dead gods?

Weren’t they all in the swim of creation, the same soup?