Ancestors

 

This morning I asked Colleen,

“How do you write a poem?”

“Look it up online,” she said,

“Or ask Siri.”

 

I guess I’ll give it a try.

 

I remember when I felt so small

that everything around me was big.

I had to duck from the avalanche.

 

Their was no choice but to see the

future as a movie and passively watch.

 

I had no idea that a shell

surrounded me.

 

There were moments

when I pecked through to

rays of light that helped

wake me from sleep.

 

And some guides

came along the way.

 

Yet in time

I had to choose.

 

Maybe some choices that came before me

were my ancestors pecking through my veins

and telling me to find exuberance.

 

Because they never had that choice.