ANCESTORS’ FOLKLORE  

 

Imagining a centuries-old ancestor

What part of the person do we see?

The face, yes, but swirling around

That person is an

Underbelly of Folklore

Part of Reproduction, I guess

And that's how we got here

 

Transcending the circuitry of technology

How did they survive?

Performing anonymity for money

Well, lies, about who they were

Moving from village to town

Always aiming for the largest city

Diverse communities willing to pay

Unusual services rendered

Lines on palms or arcane cards

And leaves of tea or grinds of coffee

Depending on the culture of the country

“Tell me your dream” said great-great-gran

“Let me shoe your horse” said her long-haired man

Dark skin fading over generations

As couplings out of the tribe began

 

Until crossing the Sea on a borrowed map

To the place where There Be Dragons

And the Reinvention began

Truth laced with revision

Darwin’s Adaptation

Regenerating like Dr. Who

Squeaky-clean family history

But always one child in each generation

Is lucky enough to learn some of the old ways

And although it may seem adulterated

As the purists decree

Ancestry is still a living, breathing organism

Like sourdough yeast used for bread

And often the new

Mixed with the old

Can be something so bright and just right

For the Age we inhabit

A marble poundcake

Different but still delicious

Different, not wrong or weird

Different, like Autism…

 

(Aha! My Dear Readers know the punchline of most of my poems is part of my A-Team:  Autism, Aries, Aging, Ancestors and other alphabet letters!)

 

(c) 2024 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Paleolithic Cave Art, Discover Magazine