Ancestors barely yawn, and the wind howls so loud that I can hardly hear my own thoughts. I wonder if the dead howl. I know we certainly howl in their absence, the great rending of death tearing a gaping hole in our hearts. And then we tend to the mending.
Ancestors barely yawn. Perhaps in heaven or the afterlife there is no sleep? Sounds exhausting. But if one doesn’t have a body, perhaps sleep is not necessary.
Ancestors barely yawn, and so many cultures honor their ancestors, Asian cultures in particular, as well as Mexican. Many Americans rarely give their ancestors a passing glance, so pressed forward into the future. I think of Disney’s Mulan who comes to her ancestors for guidance before heading out on her epic journey. In this story the ancestors have their own building even! Mexican ofrendas –offerings, or altars, tend to include tasty food and often alcoholic beverages to lure loved ones back, if only for a time, in that liminal space that joins our world with the next.
Ancestors barely yawn, and I read a book this year called I Think I Like You Better Dead, the story of the relationship between a sister and brother that is carried on on both sides of the veil, she in the land of the living, he, passed on to what is next. This brought to the fore a renewed curiosity and many unanswered questions.
Ancestors barely yawn, and I saw a psychic this year to get in touch with my grandmother. It was fun to have a conversation with her as an adult; though her body is no longer intact, her wit and humor live on. Which makes me wonder about our personality and how that may continue in the afterlife.
Ancestors barely yawn, and the wind still howls and I think that this is a good day to be indoors with the roof over our heads. I think of those huddled under bridges, exposed to the elements. Or of the night some forty years ago, when returning with friends from a night of dancing, we came upon two children sleeping on the sidewalk, the older one tenderly adjusting a piece of cardboard over his baby brother, proof that tenderness can be greater than poverty.
Ancestors never yawn, and I wonder if our ancestors cover us with prayers, or blankets, or good intentions.
*Inspired by Alice Walker in https://alicewalkersgarden.com/2015/09/ancestors-never-sleep/
reluctant methodist mystic 