Yesterday something my brother said at his wife's ordination reminded me of this poem: DESCENDANT I am descended from smugglers. I hold the darkness of tunnels inside me; hushed voices, past midnight, alert my ears. I am descended from strong-armed men, the readers of the sea. I am descended from those who roam. I hold the restlessness of wild words; dawn hours tempt me their with offers of peace. I am descended from storied women, the tellers of old tales. I am descended from the unknown. I hold onto sunsets, dark dreams and forests. Reckless whispers ride my thoughts the essence of my being.