Echoes of the Untamed

The frozen picture contracts and expands.

We tend to forget what lies behind shadows,

Our history is hushed, hidden in heartbeats,

Haunting our heritage,

held tight in our hands,

humbled by harmonies

{Hellenic-harped misconceptions collide}

The women before us were fierce and wild.

They wanted to protect us from quiet surrender,

From the slow erosion of our spirit,

still silenced.

Remember the cages built without bars?

But with words, expectations, and fear.

The women before us were spectacular storms,

Untamed, serene, leaving traces of fire in their wake.

They knew the way of the wild, foraging for food,

Guided by the moon, they fought for the light

Gave birth to gods on endless breathing in and out nights,

Thus relieving the circle of life and death.

{Mismatched ellipses of thought}

Our ancestors’ strength flows through our veins,

Our bones are full of stories calcified and camouflaged,

Intergenerational etches, visible in the lines of our hands.

We still run wild with their footsteps in ours,

But our wilderness is protected

with convoluted concrete stones,

We feverishly look for the cracks where freedom can grow

undistorted.

Look at us wearing flowy, fashionable dresses,

We’re hiding still, behind this consumerism,

Crevices filled with cheap goods,

covering attachment traumas,

Do you still feel the strength,

the ancient defiance in our veins?

The women before us continue to live in us,

Present and past get saturated to a meandering path,

Going back to our roots,

The spirits are now mere cheerleaders at the edge of our sight.

The living proof of their defiance now

dormant,

deluded,

disconnected,

dancing with echoes of forgotten resolve.

Where are we now?

---

***I originally published this poem on Medium.***

💗 Thank you for reading! Hearts, pledges, and tips are motivating me to write more. I appreciate your support.💗

You could also buy me a coffee or a tea and/or let me know your ideas in the comments section.