The Day of Ancestors

    by Snipe

It’s storm season
on The Island-
skyscapes of explosive beauty
wings are kept folded
as the air erupts
lightning lotus

In the towns
windows are shuttered
doors are secured
this is a private time
when families unite
to remember who they are
and those that came before-

The Day of Ancestors

Saurians dislike the storms
the thunders rumble
echoes their skeleton
setting teeth on edge

The humans realize
a skittish sauropod
could be trouble-
line the walls and floor
of the barns with moss
which keeps out both
cold and noise

After a meal
of the families traditional foods
the eldest member departs-
and after a time,
accompanied with much
thunder and lightning
they return-
wearing the costume
of the first of their clan
to arrive on The Island

They sit
with their family circled round
holding a small box
containing priceless treasures-
trinkets and baubles
that their ancestors brought
with them
and passed down the line

The Elders
recount the tales
they speak the names
they reweave the web

I sit
in my cave
high atop the Sculpted Cliffs
rejoicing in the storms
watching
seeing beyond the mask
witnessing The Ancestors
as they ride the storms
and descend upon the homes
of their children

To share the family meal
To help fill in the gaps
the storyteller forgets
or doesn't know
To hold their worldly possessions
through the hands of their lineage
To hear their names spoken
To reweave the web

I am brought back
lightning holds this instant-
The Islands past made present

The Day of Ancestors.

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