I am the descendant of a long-lost sailor,
a red haired Celt who washed ashore,
saved by the arms of those warriors
from the rocks of Sicily.
Descendant of a black-haired beauty
who bound his cuts and soothed his burns.
He fell in love with her and did as young lovers do
with what warriors and the sea have in common.
Now, no one is certain how many grandfathers
have been born since his marriage to our clan.
No color photographs to show each generation’s mark
of copper hair, waiving in the sea winds.