Ancestor in the Corner

There's an ancestor in the corner.

I think they have been there for a long time

but it is only today that I can see them.

Their eyes are dark 

I think they have been in hiding for a long time.

I shuffle a bit and notice that my movements mirror theirs. 

The first thing I ask is

'Are you okay?'

They nod and I see a flicker of a smile. 

I feel the relief.

Finally someone can see them. 

The second thing I ask is

'Why can I suddenly see you?'

They tilt their head sideways.

Hmm maybe I know the answer to this one. 

But they answer anyway. 

'Because you are feeling what I have been feeling.'

'This panic is yours?'

"Ours now,' they say. 

Immediately a wave of emotion meets me and I feel my jaw, clenched and tight, carrying the weight of other stories that have been locked in time. 

They come out of the corner. 

We start to make a den in the middle of the living room. 

The bike my daughter brought back from Manchester becomes a good blanket draper. 

The piano I bought for my son all those years ago in The Brick House

makes the other side of the drape. 

I bring in a card table that I put on its side

to block out the light 

because suddenly everything feels too bright. 

Panic needs dark and softness. 

I put in the toy vulture

that sits in the rattle basket

that Marion gave me

for helping her remember her shamanic soul. 

And I lay cards in my shoe box diorama theatre 

and pick a blessing card. 

'Belonging'.

I start to rattle.

The ancestor and I sit here for hours it feels like 

Shaking instruments and rocking our shoulders from side to side. 

Croning and crying. 

Seeing doorways open in time. 

It feels like that corner they were hiding in goes back a long, long time. 

I see layers of generations holding this panic in their bodies too, opening the doorways in the layers of time. 

I think I hear them singing. 

When I open my eyes the ancestor has gone 

and it is dark. 

The toy vulture looks at me and I shrug my shoulders. 

I put everything away except for the card which I place in my top pocket and I go for a ride on my recently returned bike that has made its way back from Manchester.

I really should get some lights. 

I ask the panic how it is doing. I feel like a planet that has lost its orbit and perhaps it is better to know this. I think of all those ancestors through time who opened those doors in time. I make a place for their stories of being whacked out of their orbit too.  I reflect that when we feel these feelings we also are living these past fates. Everyday can be a chance to make room for other stories in time to heal. 

When I get home I plug in the piano and play Postman Pete. I wonder if I will ever get past Postman Pete. 

There's a space in the corner where the ancestor used to stand. 

I light a candle.