DNA

DNA

By

Lisa A.Williams

Patterns

woven into

my existence-

Old fears,

hurts and

the loving of things.

How the ancient music plays-

Am I the only one who

hears my beginnings

in the strings?

I hold all mothers’ pain

inside like an embryo

waiting to be born,

waiting to be remembered.

I feel the covetous ache

of my ancestors

to set things right

no longer blind sided

by eons of self punishing love-

A well worn path

where their ghosts

still linger.