Bones Remain Alive

Loitering around at the expense of my parents back, I too wish to be at the resemblance of hardworking thumbs, those same fingers that sewed the futile grounds back home, my mother’s yuca farm, my father's dying crops, dance taking their final waltz with the tumble- weeds in direction where my ancestors sleep while their bones continue to prosper, their voices evoke within the breeze that had asked for generational appeal to the heavens that took their last breath, “My body crisp at the sight of the sun, my mind wavers as my heart knows endless bounties of weeds, twisting, turning, suffocating, all of life beneath our breaths, Yet The Night is upon us, offering eternal rest as mercy has finally reached it's limits, a new vision begins alongside the Golden thread of Youth, a soul that marked a beginning and now an end.” All that's left withered away as each ancestor departs, my parents left their grounds, the vibrancy of life dried up leaving no generations behind, My Youth became their bodies and my life framed forever in each era of my ancestors.