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Rated: · Poetry · Biographical · #1673742
Ode To Ancestors
I am the child they never knew,

the one they left behind.

No one can rob them from me,

what they left is now mine.

Language, looks and laughter,

their voices echo in through time

and shimmer in the midst of summer breeze,

ancient voices rise.

Generations live through us, what they've

lost they've gained, what they knew not of,

they have learnt for what they've died without

we have now grasped and took and when we

stand upon their graves remeber they have seen

and captured a brief glimpse of the happiness

that gleams. Their suffering they've encountered,

all the misery they've seen, the moment which

they've hoped for...in their passing it came!

For we are free and thriving, oppressed and starved

no more. All the agony once encountered...

has all but passed away and owe we do to

forefathers whose sacrifice has payed.
© Copyright 2010 Fianna Jester (madshelley at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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