Ancestors

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

All my ancestors
live inside of me.

One Grandfather cut down
the biggest tree in the county.

My Mother said,
“Why didn’t he leave
the biggest tree
to grow even bigger?”

Another Grandfather
referred to his trees
as “He and She.”

“Save those orange seeds;
they will grow into trees.”

One Grandmother said,
“What will they serve
for the wedding feast?
Rabbit?”

My room is filled
to the rafters
with their voices.

Every once in awhile
some ancestor
will sneak up behind me
and rudely nudge me
in the back

when I’m least
expecting it.

3 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

3 responses to “Ancestors

  1. Lovely writing, and isn’t it good to have such moments every now and then?

  2. LINEAGE

    All of these voices.
    Raised down through the centuries
    Now it is my turn

  3. Listen to the voices they speak the truth!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s