In the dreams / of our Ancestors

[written at home, then typed in early 2018 at a "Through Barbed Wire" meeting in Boston's South End Technology Center, founded by recently departed Mel King -- may he Rest In Power]

In my dreams
	I greet our oldest Ancestors in their custom
		and it pleases them

And though their dark brown skin and hardened hands
	do not resemble my wintertime pallor
		or skin kept smooth by lotions
I see myself 
        within their facial expressions and body language
        just as they see themselves in mine

I am 
        so happy to be home
because we are

In my dreams though our words loom indecipherable by language
	our songs & dances tell our stories
		the joy of our reunion
		the despair of our severance
		the unthinkable pain
                        	and horror
                       		caused by our alien/nation

Love radiates between us
	outside of rational comprehension
		from deep within our spirits

My Ancient grandfather smiles mischievously
        shakes his head wistfully
                sighs a knowing sigh	
                        holds me to him tight tight

As if to say
        my dear little child
        you are neither crazy nor foolish 
                for loving my dark-skinned sons
        you are, rather, most human

My Ancient grandmother presses her forehead to mine
        holds my face between her ancient hands

As if to say
	we are not sending you away, little one
	we are just sending you ahead
		for invoking our memory
			even before you knew us 
                                or how to do so
                to keep remembering us
			as you always have

My eyes squeeze shut tight 
        to hold back disobedient tears
        to fight the ending of a dream

We return to the present
	looking back to the past
		belly full of Ancestral fire
        my stranger’s face belies
        my kinswoman spirit
	        full of remembering
	        full of love

In the dawn 
        the call of birds will greet me
the Ancients’ phoenix 
        will rise from the ashes
                called forth 
by the Sankofa 
        who will fly forward
                looking back
harkening with her songs 
        our forgotten 
        stories
        and dreams
                of our Ancestors 
Full Circle