the discernible path

of all the things
I want to be remembered for
as the stories of who I was
and how I lived
and what I cooked
and how I raised my people
are told long after I am gone

the one thing I don’t want to be
remembered as
is a silent witness

I come from
people who lived
and loved
and cooked
and farmed
and built
and wrote
and painted
and created
and noticed
and told stories
and played
and worked
and laughed
and comforted
and left footsteps worthy of following

but not a one of them
was a silent witness
of what they saw and heard

they stood up for what was right
and refused to be a part of what was not

and now as I whirl and spin
sometimes lost
seeking the way I should go

though it has been years
and the wind has come
and storms have ravaged
and the sun has beat down unmercifully
upon their dusty path

the imprint they left
is still discernible

and so I go forth
trying to live as they did
not silent
never silent

speaking
out
standing
strong
bending
but not breaking
as I continue
along the way