It matters not the long valley
From which your family hailed,
Nor the salty ship, on ocean lip
In which that family sailed.
It matters not about their grub
Rhubarb or roastin’ ears,
Nor if their shack, was by an old track
In Greek-Roman suburb.
It matters not if long they stood
By slowly sifting sands,
Nor if their soul, was close to a pole
In frozen, far white lands.
Were they “bad” warriors (I hope not)
Who have shed angry blood?
Were they worshipper, (not much better)
Whose sword raised a small flood?
Were they farmers who knew the smell
Of soil newly turned?
Or bakers whose bread, the hungry fed,
Light brown, but never burned.
Did they know an ancient wisdom:
Parables and proverb?
Or did they just spurn, such light to learn,
Adjective, noun or verb.
Did your family? – ah, there’s no lack.
Diversification,
None mattering, not a single thing,
If they missed salvation.
Brag not of where your family’s been:
Valley, plain or high slope,
If they fled or felt, the angry welt
Of gen’ral or of pope.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Did family know here below
The Lord in His glory?
OH, if they knew, the One the Jews slew,
Tell, tell ALL their story.
– eab,5/24/09
Separate-Holy 