Ancestors

At crossroads, we are taught to look all ways before moving forward -- primarily to avoid being hit by a great purple bus that somehow avoided detection. At our critical, mystical crossroads, the turning points in our lives, we also look all ways -- especially backwards to see if our ancestors left any helpful life-lessons lying about on the roadway from our past. For so many years, I could depend on whispers from mother and father, echoing across the years since they departed, giving me advice on each new step along the road. However, as the road has lengthened, their voices have become stretched until they are mostly no longer detectable without a special effort on my part to seek them out.

However, as the voices drift ever onward toward silence, misty and hazy images from long ago come into ever sharper focus, as though vision were compensating for loss of sound. Memories of family reunions, weddings, funerals, and anniversaries flood my mind with images that are missing both the soundtrack and the cast list. I can see their smiles, but I cannot tell if they are laughing with me, or at me...

Mick

Ancestors

My mind reaches back to touch your spirit,
And breaching the rift between now and then,
Senses your voice, though I cannot hear it
As once I did, but can't remember when...
I resonate with your silent heartbeat,
Calm reassurance that memory brings,
Of feeling a circle closing, complete
At remembered family gatherings:
Swift visions of those faces and voices,
So long divorced from relation or name,
Leave me to search unlimited choices,
That slowly converge till all look the same.
Facing the past, I stand tiptoe to see,
All my ancestors, smiling back at me.

Mick McKellar
August 2009