D.N.A.

D.N.A.
By BumbleBeeBoogie
April 22, 1996

It started when an ancient hunter, sitting cross-legged before a smoky fire of green wood and prickly leaves, winced as he rose from the damp ground of his tribe's cave in a dark hollow of the hillside.

A female from his loins moaned as she picked up her sixth babe and strapped him to her back while she gathered roots in the forest.

The wince and moan, the stoop and creak traveled down the generations, sometimes skipping a child to afflict a grandchild with pain in a knee, back or hands.

The genes of countless generations, once separated by continents and oceans, met and mingled without knowing the message they carried to their young.

An old woman with a distorted spine; a young man with disintegrating knees; an aging mother whose hands can no longer crochet bonnets for her granddaughters.

A father looks for the reason his son cannot run like the wind across a meadow. D.N.A. messages carried from the ancient world to you and to me.