When your on the back of a Harley you may just have too much time to think.
The Ancestors
The ancestors call me,
they whisper in my ear
Tell my story for all to hear.
I had a family, I had a home.
I walked this earth
but not alone.
We’ve been silent for all these years.
Speak our dreams
and share our tears.
The ancestors call me,
They whisper their name,
Tell my story so we may live again.
– Ellen Thompson-Jennings
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