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The Genealogist

I walk through the ancients, the ancestors.

My fingertips touch the paper.

Whispering their names.

I'm walking softly as a breeze,

stirring the ashes and memories.

so many stories,

so many tears , so much laughter.

Kinfolk have left their legacies.

Some wrapped in puzzles or hidden

I find the strands of webs they have left,

begin to weave their tale.,

For those who are to come

I do not feel I am intruding.

The kinfolk give me great warmth and welcome,

knowing they are still remembered.

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