Communion (A Poem)
I drop into silence
like the bottom of a well.
Sit in the darkness
and let my eyes adjust.
I see the etchings
the scratches
of my ancestors.
Hieroglyphics shimmer
Stories of long ago.
My fingers trace the ridges of their narrative.
My palms feel the heat
that radiates and pulses.
Their stories enter my skin.
Our hearts thrum together
The ancient rhythm
In the shadows of the earth.
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