Sand speaks
Journey now
with the ancient ones
Seek the one
the one who holds your stories
like smooth stones
for safe keeping
sleek obsidian
so many stones
in her creased cupped hands
they slip into the net of her robes
she smiles
keep going
I can hold more
the men dance
their feet
stained crimson
from clay and blood
as the drum pounds
calling all forward
to the fire
they keep their distance
faceless in the shadows
until I see
my father
and his father
and my mother's father
in the blur
the drum
heart
beats on
calls in
the women
they rush in
on my waters
a cerulean wave
bathing in their knowing
together
the men
the women
from all four corners
connecting
breath
with
all
life
OctPoWriMo 21 Day 3
Photo Credit - Kambo Naturista©
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