Volume 8.0

Ancestor Dreams

Sometimes, sleep eludes me
I lay my head upon the pillow and just hope
Hope that I will find the door to some small oblivion

But one night, such a night it was
Began in confusion. Static in the brain but no pain
Just fear beginning to creep into my heart

“Look at my face, concentrate” he said
That voice that I had longed to hear
That voice for which I had cried my last tear

My heart said, “You talkin’ to me?”
But my mind followed his command

We stood together in a banquet hall
I looked upon his black skin, shining like a dark lake
I looked into his face, his cat-like eyes ready to pounce
He looked into me and he smiled.

Sunlight sighed upon lush carpets
The ceiling of the room stood still
A careful shield of comfort hovering
Above the heads of the crowd.

So many faces. Some light, some dark
Bright eyes of brown deep eyes of grey
And all the skin surveying every aspect of brown
To black. Hair, kinked or straight, long or not

My mind wanted to say “Who are these people?”
But my heart pulled off the last rags
That had tightly wrapped it in funerary white
And bore witness to the forbearers of its blood

Again, I owe him a debt that I cannot repay
It was his teaching that made possible this day
And the night of my Ancestor Dreams

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