Inheritance
I did not inherit land,
I inherited a wound.
A memory older than speech
ticking behind the eyes,
telling me I was shaped for more
than obedience.
They say we are dust,
but dust does not dream of fire.
Something was placed inside us
that does not belong to the soil alone
a tremor,
a refusal,
a spark that remembers the sky
even while kneeling in mud.
I walk with voices in my marrow,
not loud,
not kind,
but true.
They do not ask me to worship them.
They ask me to remember.
I am not cursed.
I am carrying something.
And every breath I take
is an echo
of a god who did not die in silence.
#poetry #ancientmemory #inheritance #bloodandclay #spiritinflesh #mythicpoetry #remembering
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