The book came distant from her family
And with it resonances deep to see
Some cousin’s cousin person sixth-removed
Helped me to comprehend just where she stood.

It carried echoes deep that I had seen
In her and several others of her kin
Creating caution deep without a sound
Aware of walking here on sacred ground.

I tiptoed special pages tuned right in
For what revealed to me of wife and kin
Not current thought or feelings – just the past
Dynamic which effects some sway or cast.

I’d sensed this once before with my own kin –
Australian story of some Irish sin
Potato famine victims just like us
Dark echoes of the common ground we touch.

They say that language patterns lock in first
Before vocabulary slacks our thirst
For information and a way to talk
With others round about us as we walk.

I wonder is the culture-code which sets
In fact a blend of ancient resonance
Which then defines for us our home and kin
And flags who’s safe or not to welcome in.

Are they with Jungian terrors of the past
Embedded in an archetype so vast
Defining turf from which to be set free
By Christ our liberating Jubilee.