I stood at the edge of the field 
looking at the people laughing and talking. 
I recognize most of them 
even though I have not seen them in many years. 

I see the lines on the faces, 
I see the rough hands of the farmers. 
I want to stand on the edge for a little while. 

I want to take pictures of the people 
So I can study them later. 
But I am one of them. 
I cannot take pictures. 

Because I long to mingle. 
I long to hear the stories of their triumphs. 
I want to hear the whispers of failures. 

I want to know the people. 
After all they are my flesh and 
their blood runs through my veins.
 
So I mingle, I hear the stories. 
We laugh, we talk, we eat. 
We give honour to the elders.

They created us. They formed our lives. 
If it weren't for them, we would not be here. 
We are their children.

They tell us the stories of our ancestors. 
We laugh and we cry. 
Then we all go home feeling blessed. 
For this is our family.

© Cristy O'Malley