Wednesday, January 10, 2007

smoke gets in my eyes

Little mother when I die
Bury me beneath your hearth
And when you're making tortillas
Cry for me

And if they ask you, little mother
Why are you crying
Tell them my firewood is green
And the smoke gets in my eyes

~ Traditional Nahuatl (Aztec) poem as told by Nick Hopkins

In the ancient Mayan and Aztec traditions, as in many places in the ancient Middle East, the family buried their dead beneath the floor of their home, so that the ancestors would remain close where they could be cared for and from where they might influence future proceedings.

No comments:

Related Posts with Thumbnails