Ancestors

Hello Universe 233

Back home in India, this time of the year for my community represents a period of remembering the ancestors. Back home there exists a deep sense of respect for one’s ancestors; their images a part of your household, their stories a part of your mythology. So many of your traits come from an ancient source, the shape of your face resembles a great uncle, your eyes resemble your grandmother and all her sons, and your nose your mother and her father.

This year, being as far away from home as I am, I am cut off from the rituals and the atmosphere of this time. So I turned my thoughts to how I want to respect my ancestors, and thought about them a lot. Thoughts about those ancestors have condensed into the words of today’s poem.

Alright, poem starts in 3… 2… 1!

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I imagine my ancestors
sitting around
a fire so bright
you could see it 'cross town.

Discussing what they could do
what they could say
to make the world they lived in
better each day.

They'd live in their means and
they'd stretch out their bounds.
Part of their communities,
cities, and towns.

They'd say, 
"Let life throw it at us, we will play.
We'll hit it right back,
send it back on its way."

Determined to solve every
problem they faced.
To find hidden joy in
each race that they raced.

Aware of their flaws and
their limits as well.
But always adapting
when change came to dwell.

They somehow kept hold of
each rock on their tread.
And kept slowly walking,
not knowing ahead.

Some of them flattened
and some of them peaked.
And with time there are also
traits that repeat.

Like being obstinate
and just standing your ground.
Like finding the knowledge
when it's not around.

Like having an eye and 
and ear for art.
Contributing to it
somehow with your heart.

Like finding yet newer ways
of getting hurt.
Yet somehow, someway,
rising back from the dirt.

Like finding the wonder
in drops of the rain.
Like finding the humor
in all that's mundane.

These traits are connections 
and echoes through time.
My real identity:
the traits that still rhyme.

I imagine those too
whose ancestor I'll be.
The ones whose time is
on its way to be.

The ones who'll inherit
this way of their being.
Whose blue will be blue
and whose green will be green.

The ones who'll see me as
a flash of the past.
Who even knows how long 
will my memory last?

But one thing's for certain
they'll be me as much
as I have myself had 
my ancestors' touch.

They'll also be wondering
someday of their past.
And maybe they'll come 
read this poem at last.

To give them a mirror to their
ancient selves.
And help them decode
their identities themselves.

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That’s it! Thanks for reading edition 233 of Hello Universe.

What do you remember about your ancestors and which traits of you do you think your next generations remember about you?

Share your thoughts in the comments with the Hello Universe community below.

On the way out, here’s a great track to have you dancing all week!