Poem of the ancestors

Beauty, deep to touch the soul
forever foraging in woodland vales
far dreamt wylds
beneath sycamores and mighty oaks

beneath the sombre tombs of great warriors
lie the remains of men
forgotten by my own eyes

ancestors call out to me into this night
with bitter wails, they cry out to be remembered

merely touching the hem
i peer into this unchartered territory
bewildered
lost in an ocean of voices
memories

"who calleth to me this dark night, who speaks in lightning tones"

I am drawn to oceans
to tumultuous seas
to the ravages of a clan of war

the wind whispers
the clouds spell out violence
raw, passionate in all its hues

strong and free
their blood courses through mine
even still
they speak to me this way
their inheritence is seared through my very core
and is as hot as the iron that forged it in the very beginning

I reach out
i speak and seek
their hands in this wild night
i am grabbed fiercely and led out of the darkness
into the blinding, almighty light of my forbearers
to be announced and annointed