Listening to every heart
The Other Life
There are long ago, distant, past, times in me
for in heavenís truth there is more than one
of places lived, and loves known in my distant past,
of feelings remaining unsaid, deeds left undone.
When in a span the oceanís waves call
or standing alone in an ancient medieval hall
or walking in moccasins of cured deer skin,
or the time my body was darker than itís currently in.
Memories flood deep through my resting soul
or perhaps, could these dreams be but deja vu?,
far back in time do the deep memories roam
shadowy spaces, faces, giving out small clues.
Aboard a vessel roaming from shore to shore,
knowing the heart of a pirateís deep core
vesselís sails a soaring breeze curry
memories not vague, nor are they blurry.
Of listening to a lone balladeerís song,
when hooty owls caused oneís blood to stir
when Greensleeves was first sung aloud,
memories warming like a mulled liqueur.
Those times of roaming flatland grasses
retelling histories of winged ancestors passings
being one with the spirits, the wolf, the deer,
caring for the Great Spiritís land while here.
The sorrowful times of being owned whole,
of carrying chains and scars around body and soul
when spirituals were what forced on my heart
knowing of ancient history I have been that part.
Listening to heartstrings, memories smooth,
of long ago lives from now far removed ~
not to listen to them would not to be thus soothed
for these, my lives, were from what memories grew
In each of these long ago and so faraway times,
as my soul is warmed from rich mulled wine
I am entranced by the medley of my other times,
within all my souls rejoice, and my memories bind.
5 September, 1999
Words will always express our feelings true. ~~~ KRJ
Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow