Jinora

The wind is full of ghosts this morning
I can feel them on my shoulder, whispering slowly
Yearning for, or yearning to be
Impossible, hurt beyond belief
Te blood of all my ancestors waiting to see
If I'll become all they hoped I’d be
I hope I’ll be a vessel for their spirits kept alive in me

They’ve given me a body so they could keep score
Can a body house a person it wasn’t built for?
Perhaps one day I’ll look down, and see simply the fact of me
Another substance entirely, wholly its own kind
Powerfully a memory or legacy
A graveyard full of spirits I'm continuing my heresy
Reminding me I'm an echo of lost spirits kept alive in me

My hair is full of ghosts, keeping me company
Shaving them away, they stick to my skin
The incense scent is thick with them now
Bottled blood grows new roots somehow
Face in the grass, three times I bow and pray to them
I carry all they’ve left for me
Relentlessly a vessel for their spirits kept alive in me