Generation to generation

 

I am tired

This old story repeating the same

Old things 

Clattering branches in wind

Let’s rewrite the meaning 

Let’s say

We learned fortitude early

Truly

Those who carry torches

Love the best they can

With imperfect hands and minds 

And now

Your imperfect inherited ways

Are yours

To pick up or put down 

Let’s rework it

Let’s give the next crew

Tools for the work and songs for the lyre and timbrel

That we carved from sacred cedar

The tree that we felled for ourselves

So it wouldn’t crush the house