A reconstruction from bones believed
     to be
Cleopatra’s sister, Arsinoe IV


I have seen them
Down in the valleys,
Up on the meadows,
Carefully digging and sifting
For remnants of a past age and generation,
Finding beads, bits of gold, sometimes
                             bracelets and bones,
Always bones.

Here is my sister.
I can see her as she once was,
Clothed in skin and slender,
Lying in her bony shallows,
Where nothing much is left of her.
Yet I am glad they cover her
When it starts to rain.

For, in my mind, she stands before me,
Long and lovely, her smile dazzling,
Her elegant feet tapping against her grave.

Through the sound of raindrops
I can almost hear her whisper,
‘Welcome, my sister.’
As she stands on one side of her ancient
                                              death place
And I stand silently on the other,
Returning her greeting,
‘Welcome, my sister.’

Centuries apart, it’s a family thing.

                            © 2020 Gwen Grant


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