This is one of the first poems that I ever wrote, Rich's poem reminded me of it .
Come walk with me along these ancient paths
and listen to the wind sigh through the dappling leaves,
then pause awhile, and gaze between those shafts
of golden light that filter through the shading trees.
Watch with me in this quiet glade
let your senses be aware we're not alone,
shadow people flit from sun to shade
and gather in this place that was their own.
this is where they sang and told their stories,
this is where the fire of life began,
we knew these people well and spoke their language
shared their hearth and hunted with their men.
They knew the stars that we still see above us,
knew the sea that pounds our pebbled shore,
their spirit lingers in our psyche
and their memories are pulsing through our veins.
Kingsdown wood is a small ancient wood that crowns a hill in the chalk downland near my home, it is in sight of the sea.
The wider area is known to have been the home of 'The Beaker people'
The poem tries to put into words the fact that we still share our ancestors DNA, and in effect, they are still living within us. - Not sure if this makes sense?