Wild Life

The ancestors stand at the window, peering from the long distance of time and space – right from the very beginning, stretching to that experience when they were part of the flora and fauna. And they were wild life for what seems like for ever, born on the savannah, perhaps rock artists, most certainly story tellers. Giving me life, they are my eyes and ears, they are my fight and flight, my belly laugh, the timbre of my voice, my height and length, my knees and my flesh. And I am grateful to them. Their headaches and heartaches, these grandmothers and grandfathers dead now – but their power still lies in my bloodstream, and in my breathing.