Ancestors Ode

I am the child they never knew,
the one they left behind.
No one can rob them from me,
what they left is now mine.
Language, looks and laughter,
their voices echo in through time
and shimmer in the midst of summer breeze,
ancient voices rise.
Generations live through us, what they’ve
lost they’ve gained, what they knew not of,
they have seen what they’ve lived without
we have now grasped and took and when we
stand upon their graves remember they have seen
and captured a brief glimpse of the happiness
that gleams. Their suffering they’ve encountered,
all the misery they’ve seen, the moment which
they’ve hoped for…in their passing it came!
For we are free and thriving, oppressed and starved
no more. All the agony once encountered…
has all but passed away and owe we do to
forefathers whose sacrifice has payed.

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Filed under Poetry (Ages 12 to 15)

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