Searching the Web

 

Where are the stories

my ancestors told?

They have died in the mind

and I’ve stopped insisting

on answers from the living.

What I’m looking for

is not written nor google-able

and I am at a loss.

 

We remember

bellow the pines,

standing tall

 

The red bloods have forgotten,

but, we haven’t

chatter the mycelia,

coyly, crocheting webbed fingers

 

Then, I will continue the search

in the strands

and ask the mossy stones,

I will catch them dangling

from crow’s beak,

and listen to the thrumming

of the Earth for the stories

in my bones