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Winter Solstice 2011

Of my blood, my generation’s now the oldest, the link between the lives before and lives unfolding behind me; carries a slow simplicity, imperfect and complete. Ancestors circle, surround me tonight, I hear them more plainly every year. This night they ask questions that have no words, and no escape. Tomorrow when the new year’s sun strikes the keystone of my heart, what light I’ve kept alive, all I have to give, will answer.

© Lloyd Meeker, 2020

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