a Poem by Dani McPeak

I am every age that came before me

My pain is my mother's pain is my mother's pain is

My ancestors' trauma rots

Buried deep within my fears 

I tie the thread of my foremothers in a knot

Wrapping our collective past in the most delicate silk

Preserving it in the marrow of my bones

Pull the thread and see the root of my suffering

Do I not feel betrayal in the sacrifice?

The bogs and fens in the helices of my DNA

Tattoos of memories etched clear as my own

Loss, hurt, worship, guilt, longing, fear 

If I must feel the pain of prior generations

Why should I not also feel the joy?

I choose what load to bear

And what links in the chain to break

I let the sun shine on my back after a cold winter

I relish the food that keeps me happy and nourished

I thank my body for keeping me alive and safe from all threats

Life, limb, and mind

I laugh, I cry, I sing, I see, I feel, I live

I am my ancestors' great victory

My psyche a temple, flecks of adornment among crumbling columns

And I the holy keeper of the shrine of memory