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.
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