Kathy Gee

Honouring the Ancient Dead

Tell us how to know, to hear
each father, mother, elder, child.
Explain the things you left behind
and then, as firelight dims the moon,
become a person – thug, beguiling,
lost too young in heavy rain;
a seer who met her death at peace
in the brilliant blue of a summer’s day.

Forgive your interrupted rest.
We want to understand your story,
spread the gift of what we learn
across the winds that touch our lives.