We’re an old family, a long lineage
back to England, 1600s, Puritans,
not pilgrims, making our own way
to this new land, escaping, risking
a voyage cramped together in prayer
in a sailing ship, huddled below deck
among the ruffians who didn’t want us,
just our money. But we arrived, survived,
and three brothers became tens of thousands,
hundreds even, generation upon generation
growing larger, populating these United States,
Puritans no more, but Quakers and Baptists,
all religions, or none at all,
doctors and lawyers, farmers and statesmen,
soldiers, craftsmen, artists and entrepreneurs,
rich or poor, educated or not, famous -
a few - or little known, dying and buried
among the unknown citizenry beyond the borders
of a town, city dwellers or rural gatherers,
ordinary folk eking out a living or living
the lap of luxury and all points in-between.
But now, on this tree - so many branches -
we find a princess, marrying the prince,
a distant, a far distant cousin connected
to John, John’s wife, her sister marrying
and we wonder, what do you give a Princess
on her wedding day, for the little place
she holds on our family tree?
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