Arts Of The Ancients Poem by Ben Gieske

The funerary arts of the ancients
hold for us mystery
How they groomed their dead
for the after-journey
Their names, their faces, their masks
hold us still in ecstacy

They tasted the flowers of seasons
found comfort at their hearths
They ventured into the forests
cherished all that it was worth
They furrowed the rivers and lakes
to sweet sounds their violins gave birth

The ancients - now their bodies sanctuaries
To us reveal their ritual litanies
speaking poetry

- April 22,2008