my ancestors do not see
or hear, or taste, or dream,
they speak in tawdry accusations

as dawn bends around a crow’s wing
they remember smiles,
and hate me even more.

great-grandfather, please
let the new days ring
from the steeples

I can only beg, here
where the spirits sneer
at the endless nothing.

Great-grandmother it is me
the one you loved
though you never kissed my forehead

please, forgive me
your name is safe
here in my heart.

my ancestors ache for the peaceful thickets
for the cool dusk
and the hymns of fireflies

Great-great-grandfather
please, I mean well.
I mean well.

My ancestors accuse me of worse than hate
they snicker at loves
that never were.

Oh God, save me.
I am less than nothing.
less than nothing…