Sunday, October 12, 2014

The Gypsy and the Pilgrim

The Gypsy and the Pilgrim

One summer
I spoke
With my Grandmother
And she told me stories
Of her time
As a child
With her sister
And father,
Who was an Italian Gypsy.
All I really recall
Where stories of a house
In the grass,
And playing with her sister,
Who she no longer knows,
Because one day
Her father disappeared,
Leaving her
And her sister

But my Grandma also told me
About her adopted family,
And stories of their history.
Of how her adopted Grandmother
Met her adopted Grandfather
But they were both travelers
Going their separate ways.
They were not meant to be
Although they fell in love.
So when their children,
My great-grandmother
And great-grandfather,
Met by happen stance,
They fell in love
And righted the balance.
Then they adopted my Grandmother
Who birthed my father,
Who made me.

Though my Grandmother identifies
As an Italian Gypsy,
She was raised by a family
Who descended from Pilgrims.
Two vastly different peoples
But two similar ways.
Two families of travelers,
Two people who had no home.

But who am I?
A Gypsy or a Pilgrim?
Do I have Gypsy soul or not?
The answer?
I am Both.
I have a Gypsy soul
As well as
A European frame of mind.
I am a Gypsy and a Pilgrim.

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