Despite the squabbles, lumping and splitting,
the death and resurrection of theories,
the nationalistic pride, the headline baiting

pronouncements of a brand spanking new species—
I love it when the bones rise from the earth,
slight shards of light trespass the great abyss

that is the story of our mutual birth.
We are six billion, yet we are alone.
The last humans, facing the bitter truth

of our extinguished cousins, yet we can
imagine how they were, their burly frames,
dream flesh upon their ravaged, dried up bones,

join them round their last fires, give them names.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Mar 17, 2012 @ 00:41:39

    It gets to you, does it not…all those generations climbing there way up the evolutionary ladder.
    You say extinguished but a spark remains… their DNA locked within our double helix.


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