Ghosts of My Blood

Ghosts of my blood beckon me home,
Like ancestors, I brave gunmetal water.
Toward England's shore I've never known,
Her arms stretch out, enveloping her daughter.

How many have trespassed this tower
Of gray and stone? How many roam
The crooked streets to marvel at its wonder?
Ghosts of my blood beckon me home.

Big Ben stares into the dark night alone
I keep him company in the wee small hour,
Crossing London Bridge, stepping into the unknown
Like ancestors, I brave gunmetal water.

I breathe in the night of Westminister's power.
Starlight falls across St. Paul's dome.
Familiar stirrings fill my soul to wander
Toward England's shore I've never known.

Bestowing centuries of wisdom renowned.
The voices, long ago called to the Father.
The soul: rising, wanting, long foregone,
Her arms stretched out, enveloping her daughter.

The Thames brings life in blood and water.
England's children come back to roam
In London's dark bones and mortar.
I join them, open the mind to its tome, Ghosts of my blood.

© K.D. Schultz