A Secret in the House

The secret was our name. Somewhere along the way, it got trimmed. Shortened.  Nobody said when. Did anybody know when?
It was a tidy 6 letters. It proclaimed its neutrality.  GRE E NE and demanded put your questions away.
This is how you grow silence.
Once, in a box of old letters, I saw the original.
Hey, if this is my father's father's father, why is his name longer than mine.
Who decided? How?  The loudest silence centers on Why?
A name has power.  Who gets that power and how much is not always something we can control.
Those who came before me, most directed by this secret, did not remain long enough for me to question. They were gone before I could say, "Tell me the story and tell it how it was told to you."

Sometimes I like to think the secret is safe with me.  But I know its worth lies in the unveiling.
Veil...cover...hidden...buried...
I long to take back the need; it is the map leading to places and ages past. Those on whose lives and sacrifices I sailed and sometimes soar.