Ancestor Gang

Maria dal Vago Sartori and daughter Ada  c.1927

In my bloodstream, in my dreams,
they whisper, the Ancestors.
As close as my hands and feet
are they, the old ones.
Near as air in my lungs
are the voices of my Gonebefores,
the songs of all my family.
From down the years they call,
they send their strengthening songs along.
How I long to hear their voices.

I listen but my ears are not enough.
I am wrong expecting words.
I must rattle, I must dance, I must chant.
I must learn to listen with my skin
and let the messages arrive
with wind through the leaves
of the ciruela tree,
with waves on the lake touching my feet,
with the flame of the candle leaping,
with the scent of frangipani.

What help am I failing to notice?
Do these wavering moonlight shadows
write wild poems on my patio stones?
Are there colors coded in the sunset
urging me in a new direction?
Let me shift my perception
to dimensions unseen around me.
I humbly request relationship,
contact with the gang of Ancestors
and the roundness of life that includes them.

Cherished earthling, be assured
we gather all about you
with delight and with assist,
with advice and with all lightness.
Rest easy in trust, why not,
it’s the way to make it so,
it’s the way to make your life
a medicine for the world you’re in.
Lift your heart, little descendant,
we are in constant contact.

©Susa Silvermarie 2024