carrying everything on one’s body or sled.
traveling lightly on the land one treads.
our ancestors hunted and farmed.
followed the herds when alarmed.
drinking water from pristine streams.
thinking of how they could leave.
no trace they existed before they came.
land was a holy space with no name.
two inches of my brain I now miss.
connected to something new maybe, I wish.
a time when man lived off the land.
a time when nothing was polluted then.
the waters pure and the air clean.
children played with bodies lean.
running through farmland and forests.
animals lurked around corners to beware.
each meal they ate there was a prayer.
no internet to write you this letter.
no blackberry to interrupt you the better.
nothing magic to keep children glued.
to stories fed to them by the tube.
a plague or famine they might have had.
no medicine to extend their lives but glad.
just living and loving under one sun.
times were hard but they must have been fun.
children made toys out of wood and rope.
used their imagination to play pretend hope.
no kids on the corner selling crack or dope.
no kids breaking in to steal an old man’s dollar.
families were large and you would hear him holler.
when a child grew up he learned a trade.
he then passed his skills to the child he made.
working with one’s hands the norm.
no buttons to click in a company uniform.
no sitting on a couch all day bored to tears.
for living a hard life was filled with fear.
reptilian brain response triggering fight or flight.
mammalian social structure that made this life.
a life I’d trade in an instant.
to be an ancestral relative so very distant.