smoke in the air

Photo by Steven Weeks on Unsplash

Rites by Silvatiicus Riddle

Ancestors drawn near—

kin, blood of my blood; hands reach

down through the ether.


Bio

Silvatiicus Riddle is a Rhysling-Nominated Dark Fantasy & Speculative Fiction Writer and Poet. He hails from the city of Gotham, with his cats, a hoard of books, and all of his imaginary friends. He studied English and Literature at Kingsborough. His poetry has appeared in Abyss & Apex, Dreams & Nightmares, Enchanted Living, Eternal Haunted Summer, and Spectral Realms. His fiction has appeared in Weird Fiction Quarterly, with a story forthcoming in Apex Magazine's “Strange Locations” anthology. You may find his work here.

Author's note

This piece was inspired by my interest and research into ancestor veneration and worship, both modern and historical. Through such, one may gather yet another tool of healing, wisdom, and even protection. We are the result of a thousand loves, after all. That kind of energy doesn't disappear.

I felt that this piece would be great for Carmina because at some point our ancestors do pass from memory to mythology, and like all spirits and deities, to speak their names, to honor them, is ultimately to give them power to aid us on our journeys. What a comfort it is, then, to know that we are never truly alone, are we?