Smoking to Them

The smoke rises from the little pipe

Whirling in the frosted air

I can feel a million bodies shuffle around me

Those long-Dead so near

I can feel two million eyes

Maybe more

Look to me, into me

I will be among Them some day

but for now

I smoke to Them

It is simple

Little puffs into great billows of smoke

but it is good

to live in Gebo

with one’s long-Dead kin

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