Where We Meet
I have been following the trails
of familial ghosts;
watching the dusky horizon,
the moonrise,
the gilings of ways taken and lost.
Where sky and dust merge
you also may see your lineage and kin,
their names are written under your skin.
Ancient they are, seconds are their wombs.
They shape each rim and verge -
emerge there as your thoughts.
Those we have known and have known not,
their shirttails dangling, their anatomy dwindling
leave and reform under our breath.
We twine both life and death on one vine,
awake together in the same dream.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
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