Private Investigations (Poetry)

Old photos cast quaint spells in sepia —
those enigmatic figures posed and stiff,
unsmiling, sure their sins are safely hid
from future kith and kin who delve and dig

and ferret through the yellowed wills and deeds,
that link our lives with strangers sharing names;
inherited disorders; likenesses
of physical appearance... Blood will out

and genes display their clues in subtleties —
a watermark that validates as true
their lineage — that nose seems proof alone,
a blueprint of familial ancestry.

Our fascination grows and feeds on facts
unearthed from parish records, registers
of births and deaths and marriages, plus those
few random recollections Grandma told —

the skeletons in closets. Curious,
this self-investigation ego-led —
the need to know our origins and add
our name to some exclusive pedigree.