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.