How far back 
would I have to trace 
the matrilineal line 
to find the markings again? 
I shortened the distance 
to a few inches 
with black ink 
and the snap of 
the needle in my skin. 

What had she accomplished, 
that unknown mother’s mother’s
mother? 

My daughter will only know my face 
marked. 

There’s pride in that. 
I myself can barely remember 
the time before 

the tavluġun. 

My daughter will only know the land 
beneath her feet. 
There’s a pride in that. 
It pains me to remember 
the time before 

the nuna.