- Christine Duncan
Published on the Ancient Paths Facebook page on February 23, 2019.
We walk with hands swinging at our sides hair in varying degrees of tidiness. Our faces aren’t smeared with dirt. Blood flows in our veins—red. And yet I can’t say we’re living
If we remembered the scent of still-warm blood from someone who couldn’t stay dead. Maybe then we’d wake to something beyond what’s just ahead.