The earth remembers
what is buried below the crust
there is no depth that does not fracture
and spit out blood-red memories
I bend and touch the blood
sticky slightly warm
the blood of my ancestors
a source of strength
blessed be their names
that rumbles below the surface
they have walked for miles
their feet are raw their hands
wrapped in rags
their eyes …
their eyes are frozen in horror
for the cruelty they’ve witnessed
I hold their faces in my hands
warm them with my breath
and thank them for all
they have been and will be
for me
in me
I bend and bless the earth
with my own brokenness
I bless the fractured memories
until the bleeding stops
until the suffering recedes
until I can feel whole
