He’s bursting to play in this brisk
autumn, so soon after we both succumbed
to the nasty bug from preschool.
Something inside cries, no! Seemingly stray,
a thought, how did they manage in olden
times? And just like that, I catch
the epigenetic trauma alert interlaced
and concealed. Keeping us alive.
The whole damn town reeling two
hundred years ago, this child’s
fifth great grandmother losing four
loved ones in the fall, weather
so similar it stirs our guts and
makes us jittery. We’ll bundle up,
declare this trauma broken up,
a new ruler of integration and
consciousness, choosing fresh air
and being present for ancestral warnings.
Inspired by: Jittery, Brisk, Broken and Ruler and the tragic life of Mary Glaze, my third great grandmother and the traumatic fall of 1838. First Solomon, her 43-year-old husband, died on September 26, followed four days later by her five-year-old daughter Sarah, and three days later her three-year-old daughter Elizabeth. Did I mention Mary was in her last trimester of pregnancy? On 28 October she gave birth to a son, Joseph, who died several weeks later.