I have recently come to understand
That I am not living my own life
That there is somewhere
In this gene pool that I inhabit
An old dusty tome entitled
‘Ancestral Tales’
Whose pages hold the stories of things gone before

And every now and then
A breath of air rustles these ancient sheets
And a tale of ‘daring do’ or ‘loss and lack’
Or ‘happily ever after’ is released and settles on me
Like a garment chosen from my wardrobe
To match the mask I will wear this day

I never knew the power of such stories
Thought I held them firmly in their place
-The past –
Not capable of influencing my present

But I have woken up
Become aware of how I have been bewitched
By these potent family brews
Still being created from ancient recipes

I have resolved at least
To hold these tales lightly
And as I cannot stop them being resurrected by others
To create my own pages

On which I write tales such as this
So that others may be set free
To live their own lives…

(written Friday December 26th)