Past the Mountain Ridge

Let us go into exile,
tame the ghosts who hold our feet
for where we stand
we cannot see past the mountain ridge.

Let us make our lives
no longer mere moments
but our moments, entire lives;
whisper our tales to the ancestors,
make them honored to share the sky.

Let us forge our children from the earth,
take a piece of the sun and place it inside them,
explain how there are no lords here;
we hold even the soil as siblings, as ourselves,
for when we make our return
we are held as softly.

Let us see our final day standing,
our last breath coming
as the first time air entered our mouth.
Carry what we leave to the rituals,
offer our thanks for it was a noble vessel.