I stood still,
Breath smoking out of me,
Like my Ancestor’s words,
That were breathed and never heard
In this ordinary reality
But they speak to me.
In my non ordinary reality.
Grandmother Gregg,
Stern, flaming red hair, Welsh words streaming
As I light candles and do ceremony.
I have never spoken Welsh
But I hear what she says.
Beat my drum and understand that
She did this too.
St Bridgid, the other, older version
Is suddenly flaming inside me
Oma Aumuller, comes to me in my dreams.
She tells me to walk the beach
To find seaweed to eat.
To follow the shells,
I do and a few days later get told
I need more iodine in my body
And here I stand, cold winters air
My breath manifest,
In mist from my mouth and wonder
What I will say to my children and Grandchildren?
When this breath is no longer manifest.
