Kinship

BY MARGARITA ENGLE

Two sets

of family stories,

one long and detailed,

about many centuries

of island ancestors, all living

on the same tropical farm…

The other side of the family tells stories

that are brief and vague, about violence

in the Ukraine, which Dad’s parents

had to flee forever, leaving all their

loved ones

behind.

They don’t even know if anyone

survived.

When Mami tells her flowery tales of Cuba,

she fills the twining words with relatives.

But when I ask my

Ukrainian-Jewish-American grandma

about her childhood in a village

near snowy Kiev,

all she reveals is a single

memory

of ice-skating

on a frozen pond.

Apparently, the length

of a grown-up’s

growing-up story

is determined

by the difference

between immigration

and escape.

I believe that the poem Kinship talks about this person who’s sides of the family had different histories. One side of the family had a harsher upbringing because of World War II in Europe. Their grandma was Jewish which means that most likely her, or at least her parents were affected by WW II and the attacks on Jewish people during that time. Which affected the way their grandmother was able to grow up in a war torn country. But on their moms side of the family she can tell many stories about Cuba and the environment because her experience might’ve been more positive in comparision to the grandmother’s. And the last line “Apparently, the length of a grown-up’s growing-up story is determined by the difference between immigration and escape” really paints a picture of the difference between a family who had to leave by necessity and WWII and didn’t have many positive memories of her homeland vs a family who left for perhaps a better life and was able to have, remember and cherish, those memories.