My monkey necklace

Cold and clammy beads,
like hundreds of souls,
strung together on ancient string.
Worn by deceased owners;
a necklace to you, but an ancestor to me.

As I look into the crowd of redcoats,
I feel a pang of fear.
I send a prayer to the great sun and wish good luck to my childhood friends.
Together we rush into the blur of red;
with my necklace dangling from my neck.
I feel and hear the yell of the monkey ancestor beside me
Then we meet the redcoats with a “CLASH!”

I dangle on my master’s neck as we run into the redness.
Then I see my friends falling down.
We rush over to one. He is dead
we run on but I can’t hold it back.
I feel a burst of light and I am at my master’s side;
I yell out a cry.
Then I rush into battle.