The Ancestor’s Plea
My grave lies before you
Open like a gaping wound.
My bones to you
May seem the chance
To analyse, decipher and decode
The very core of my being
But, I implore you
Please do not rip me callously from the earth
To abandon me later in some dusty archive
Leaving the context of my life in disarray.
Instead please treat me with the same veneration
As my people did
When they prepared me for my mystical journey
Many moons ago.
Honour the man not the specimen.
My remains belong only to the land
Which nourished me in life
And to which in death I returned.
My body and gravegoods can only offer you
The faintest whisper of my vibrant existence.
Yet always remember I am waiting here
In the Summerlands
To whisper the essence of my spirit, my truths and my knowledge
To you in your sacred place.
Recall that I too loved and was loved
And that I, like you, had a name.
Always will my blood course through your veins
For your ancestors remain my descendants
And that one day my soul may return
To the body of your future child.
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