A Poem: The Ancestors | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine
Summon the spirits at night.
Ask them to come,
to make a circle,
to hold hands. To pray.

The ancestors say do nothing.
Be kind, do nothing.
Listen. Do nothing.
This is what they say.

Go back, go back in time.
He is a baby,
he’s newly alive.
Go back to his first day.

Now go back even farther.
He doesn’t yet exist.
He has no mother
or father to obey.

The spirits make a circle,
hold hands and then pray.
He’s taken care of,
do not worry.

That’s what the spirits say.

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