I leaf through the books of old.
Like a leech to skin, I suck in the feats of warriors past.
Each word gives light to stories not written.
I wish I could tell each of them that none is forgotten.
Their descendants takes delight in their every effort. In every word and thought left behind.
I let my blood sing of its roots.
My heart fills with pride
My ancestors have been naught but mighty.
Leaving behind a legacy rich and deep.
Earth,wind and water
Can tell stories old and new
Fire’s always new
Searching and searching, I find no feats.
I am a progeny of no roots and no trail, so they say.
Not a single word of how I’m here.
The mirror says I am here. It tells me I have feet on solid ground. But why do I feel like a cloud with no anchor, floating away.
I wonder if mine have failed me or I have failed myself. I resolve today that those after must not feel like I do.
A blazing trail must be left for them to thread. I will set the pace.
Be the warrior they and I need.
Fingers of shame point
Fire burns with shame then rage
Scorches left behind
Image credit- Comfreak
This two step Haibun is in response to Colleen’s weekly Tanka Tuesday poetry challenge
The prompts for this week’s challenge are PLEASANT and READ (synonyms only).