The Ship You Sailed In On

To know where you're going, you must look where you've been
Retracing the paths, fill the shoes you walk in
Look to those that were, making who you are now,
Accepting yourself, what made you and how.

To Ireland I start, looking to bright, emerald green,
A fighter's heart burns, brazen but not mean.
Wisps of red in my hair pointing to a Celtic past,
An ornery, old soul will forge on and will last.

The beauty of Poland revealed in ivory skin,
With the love of people and God, lying within.
The hard-working Poles, seen in my desire,
To see everything through, in my trials by fire.

Tuscarora blood, running deep through my veins,
A love of all things in nature, deeply ingrained.
An enduring spirit, Native American pride,
I will never forget how my ancestors cried.

The Canadian-French, small, nimble and feisty,
Quick-talking and fun, temperamental but lively.
Practical, they say, no time for such waste,
They're strong and enduring and thrive where they're placed.

And last but not least, the Hungarian Magyar,
Dark hair and green eyes and a protective heart.
Vampires, they say, full of old gypsy lore,
The colors and dances leave you wanting much more.

For each ship that has sailed, seeking a promising land,
Or for those who were here, building America by hand,
Those who saw freedom and decided to stay,
I am grateful to each, who made me this way.