The Whisper of My Ancestors

They told me to keep walking,
to never stop.
The path was clear—
meant for deepening roots.
The trees would grow taller, stronger.

They whispered the answers,
guiding my hands
as I wrote the present.

No warning needed—
they simply showed me the way.

I see it,
as clear as a movie,
every night in my dreams.
I hear it,
like a thunderstorm—
lightning and thunder
rumbling inside my chest.

Listening to them
brought me here—
to far lands
where I found all I need.

The blood connects to the land,
where it was spilled
hundreds of years ago.
The body embraces the heat,
the hot sun that warms
but does not burn.

I follow the map back home,
to the place
where the heart is rooted.

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