Nomads Called Aestii Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

Ancient imprints of dark memories
Deeply wrapped in folds forgotten
Branded unto every fiber
Of my Aestii people's bloodline

Since the dawn of time they wandered
Searching for a hoped for shelter
Riding, walking, seeking daily
Huddling, struggling bands of nomads

At land's end they found green pastures
Rivers flowing rich with fishes
Waters mighty, lakes refreshing
There they rested, there they settled

Yet their epic hero suffered
Where his mother, father lingered
Their fair son was cut asunder
Bloody legs and fist soon shackled
In an underworld of torture

Like a mirror of that saga
Aestii people were uprooted
Rounds of fiery shrapnel bombing
Like a bucking stallion's thunder

Peaceful farmers lost their homesteads
Forced to wander in all seasons
Still recalling fields and meadows
Crops now spoiled and plots left fallow

Yet as lasting as the courage
Of the hero down in Hades
Are the strains of long set patterns
Of those distant hordes of nomads

As my evening draws to ending
I recall my birth beginnings
It seems strange that I'm not broken
Over lost lands and lost friendships

Then recalling nomad imprints
Seared and branded in our blood veins
And as much as we love Aestii
We remain as tough as need be

Knowing that though wars may tumble
Lands and peoples like a jumble
Still we have the earth to walk on
A great sky to see and learn from

That young hero is now loosened
When a sword brought faith on crosses
Pouring balm on times of serfdom
Bringing warmth to harshest winters

Yes the Aestii still are breathing
Air God gave to all his people
None need be displaced or wanting
When his hope is placed in heaven

We no longer have to pine for
Wheat filled fields and blue-eyed neighbors
If our hearts are filled with Jesus
Turning strangers into brothers

Those who spewed us from our lodgings
Are forgiven and forgotten
For there is but one great treasure
Tolerance with mercy's measure

Is there not a deeper instinct
More remote than nomad imprints
Is there not a need a burning
To find God and end all yearning?