The day is overcast, The clouds no threat.
Warm and sultry as only the basin can be.
Wax bayou thick and lush with greenery.
We head towards the bend near the mouth of the river.
Longing to set foot on the ancestors island.
Lilies in bloom jam against the bank,
we stop to smell the sweet scent.
Clouds begin to gather as we motor to our place of peace.
A sharp turn to the left;
Total and absolute heart ache and distress.
I’m dredging barge grinding away at the ancestors Island.
The boat sinks backward into the water as a engine cuts away.
As if to match I’m gut boiling back inner stomach.
Tears begin to feel my eyes as my mind reaches to my grandma’s grandfathers who we’re always there for us when we came to share our hearts concern.
As tears flood my face the sky also begins to weep the loss of the ancestors island.
I could feel the ancestors lament.
-Barry Sons 2016-