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Atavus Complex

How odd it feels
to come home, after wandering,
to this old place you've never seen
except vicariously
through ancestors you never knew.

How fresh it smells
refurnished, newly decorated,
yet still with traces here and there
of former occupants,
descendants of the same (ahem!) survivor.

How coarse it sounds
the gutturality, the foreign throats,
yet still the same tripartite roots
from right to left,
once spoken by the firstborn of the line.

How rich it tastes
the produce of the fields, the sacred groves,
the promised milk and honey,
the same old slaughter
by the fixed ancestral rite.

How strange it looks,
this new-old home, that lingering
familiarity, the devastated
cities of the plain
from which we once ascended.




Fri vers av R Pyper Robinson
Läst 131 gånger
Publicerad 2012-03-29 15:13



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R Pyper Robinson