'my Deep Roots'
Oh, so precious our blood and roots,
yesterdays shadows creep and cling;
odd, I have those attributes . . .
The past lays icy hands to bring,
my foundation;
my formation,
from the long past and dust of time;
have been told sweet stories sublime.
Father's ancestors came from France,
with dreams of life- in a green land;
they came by boat to take a chance.
Grandpa worked hard as a farmhand,
and his father, too;
under a sky of blue . . .
One day, to France I will journey,
to find some names on tombs ferny.
Grandma was Ojibwe, First Nation,
these are people of many tales;
and I hear the drum vibrations,
since a child told things in details,
I embrace the call;
I want it all-
all the teachings, the history;
the tapestry and beautiful mystery.
To my family thanks for all your truths,
for guiding me on this path;
and for all those twisted routes,
since a child I followed the flutes.
speaking to my heart;
we will not depart-
I thank you all with this tribute;
for my deep roots and for my pursuits.
____________________
May 17, 2017
Poetry/Verse-Rhyme/'My Deep Roots
Copyright Protected, ID 17-1160-309-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Your Choice, Tribute
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2019
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