Ancestors

Under the Tropic of Cancer
Ancestors on fast wooden ships
Made in docks in Bristol
Or in Amsterdam
Came to find new life
With steel weapons and God's Word
They conquered and built cities
They made the land do their bidding

Obssessed by Destiny
By their place in History
They subdued men and women
Thinking they were saving them
Giving them a path to Heaven
Not realizing they were already there

At last they say man understood
His place on Earth wasn't to destroy
Nor to show the Love of God
At the tip of the bayonet

Though this mindset we endure
And will endure some time yet
More and more of us choose
To show God's love through love

Now again the world changes
Places that were so far away
Today feel like next door
And our neighbors are everywhere

So will you dear,
Join me for a cup of tea
A chocolate cookie
As we sit under the tree,
Wait for the day's cool
On our white wooden chairs
And discuss the day's writing
Our eyes in each other's
Our smiles premanently etched
Contentment in our hearts.

Written on a Sunday afternoon, for Lara, in Pretoria.

© 2017 Christopher Mahan