Ancient Village
Once in a while, beneath a full moon
The village folks gather alongside the fire
Celebrating ancient beliefs passed to them
Engaged with darkness until night expires
Their drums engulf passion, passed to the wind
Keeping their footsteps firm with the beat
Fire finds prayers and it’s smoke delivers
Prayers in the night sent to the deceased
One by one, they each thank the warriors
Both the alive, and those silenced by swords
The widows of warriors held in high regards
Honored on freedom, for which they died for
After the dancing and eating their feasts
Elders tell stories of ancestor’s quests
Eager to wash themselves in this wisdom
The silence is broken by only deep breaths
After each elder has spoken his peace
Slowly he takes a draw from the pipe
Blowing the smoke to carry his prayers
Beyond the full moon hung in the night sky
Then, they retire, one by one
Back to the hut they each call home
Some day, all these tales will be forgotten
Except those chosen to be set in stone.
D.R.L.
Copyright © Dillon Lewis | Year Posted 2020
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