Twelve months ago, while visiting my cousins on Vancouver Island, I tapped out a small poem on my iPhone — a moment shaped by cedar shadows, cold tides, and old family echoes. Today’s Throwback Friday returns to that quiet day, and to the fallen ancestors the island seemed to remember.
Fallen Ancestors
Above
I saw time drift across the sky.
Below
I heard a grey, waterlogged tree cry,
“Is this the graveyard where my
fallen ancestors have been left to die?”
There
“Against the sea wall’s merciless granite crown,
surrounded by cold water crashing around…
Please
“Take my hand, guide me down,
so I can cover them with my green nightgown.”
A quiet echo of the sea’s old memory — as the tide carries its stories forward, this song keeps a heart in the water.
.
Ivor Steven © August 2026
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 
Poor trees. Poor everything on this planet.
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Yes indeed, poor everything … 🪵
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