Out of the Womb of Time, a poem
“Most species do their own evolving, making it up as they go along, which is the way Nature intended. And this is all very natural and organic and in tune with mysterious cycles of the cosmos, which believes that there’s nothing like millions of years of really frustrating trial and error to give a species moral fiber and, in some cases, backbone.” TReaper Man
out of the womb of Time they slide
peasants and kings, artisans and queens
murders, warriors, healers, peacemakers
the grandfathers and grandmothers
on whose shoulders we stand
they are with us, their spirits sensed
. . . . though unseen
their hearts are in our mouths
as they guard and guide
feet rooted in the mud of Earth
we drink the wine, eat the roots
and sing the songs we inherited
their sayings are our sayings
their voices are our voices
carried on breezes
like the music of cathedral bells
like the call of the muezzin
they chime and summon
they sum what came before
from their gnosis
whispered in the ear of silence
we learn: we are nameless but not lost
we too shall echo
shall be the shoulders
shall be the great progenitors
shall hold the Vision and the Light
along the path . . .
. . . . beckoning
Originally published in Brooklyn Memories
© 2012, Jamie Dedes
This was making its way around Facebook a week or so ago and it reminded me of the above poem. All of us, no matter what our immediate family history, have heroes in our family line. That’s how we’ve come to be. A cause for gratitude and celebration and perhaps a sense of responsibility too.
Wishing everyone the best today.
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“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” Lucille Clifton