All my relations hail from Puglia and Tuscany
their bodies rooted to ancient hillsides, sacred ruins
forests filled with wild cinghiali, fallen chestnuts
fields bursting with red poppies, stone menhirs
All my relations flew through the night skies
their souls danced with stardust, cradled by the wind
and the voluptuous arms of the full moon
secret-keepers, storytellers, healers
bakers, winemakers, farmers, musicians, poets
All my relations troubled the waters of convention
rocked the boat, sailed across an ocean
began a new life in a distant, foreign land
All my relations know the heart
pumps dreams as well as blood;
that life is a risky gamble—sometimes
you laugh, more often you cry,
but always, always—you fly, fly, fly.
Read Meet Mago Contributor Mary Saracino.
Love, love, love this poem!