The Plea

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.