Shake the tree of ancestors down,

down low in the roots,

shake the earth holding old stories

together.

I shake, shake–

Wake,

Wake up!

This handoff of poison chain-filling my heart,

hindering my body,

take it, claim it, you men,

you women, you hidden, you reviled,

you celebrated and lauded,

the claiming is now, is yours.

I’ve given nearly half a century to the unmaking

and now is the return.

Wake,

Wake up!

Rattle the tree yourselves and we’ll all reclaim,

liberate our souls back and back and back,

seeing the parts each have played, taking account,

learning the stock

of which we come.

Destroy the sickening story–

look around at the shattering, the cruelty,

division, violence–

the story did this.

Break it. Set it free. Kiss it, bow to it,

laugh as we all place it on the waves of great mother

Ocean, Her arms open and generous breasts

waiting.

She has waited eons for this. Give it

to Her.

The wounded ones return to primal waters,

freed, Reborn, brought home

into swirling creation,

compassion,

divine pilgrimage upon the greening surface

of this sensuous, generous Mother Earth

who gives, unendingly gives.

The story no longer burdens, we

are free.

Infinite gifts spring forth.

The turning.