the ancestors are calling. the rain is coming down. sunlight reaches through rain as big as hands. light finds me once again.

i look down at these feet, thick with earth and know the tenderness of bone.

these are stories for me to tell.

these are tales to share.

mine and not mine. theirs and ours.

to imagine: I can taste that sweet sound again; the murmur of sand spinning into glass. I will listen for the song that leads me back home.