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