Response to the last lines of the poem “Living in the Body” by Joyce Sutphen: “and then one day they/ are gone. No forwarding address.”
Not so.
I know a lot of dead people.
Each lives not just in memory but in an energetic signal that arrives in co-incidences and inspirations and ideas and guidance.
Read that article.
Listen to this song.
Take the writing class on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
The address is still a place but the directions aren’t to be found on MapQuest or Google.
The way is subtle and requires traveling the road of deep listening
Attuned to intuitive presence and love still alive.
Sometimes the journey leads far into the past along a winding path towards distant ancestors.
A path of secrets and stories never shared but pumping with a rhythm somehow known to be the heartbeats of my own
Searching for me to discover them.
Voices that ask to be heard in dreams and meditation.
Truths that ache to be liberated, held captive till now in my own DNA.
They’ve been whispering for generations.
Will I hear them?
Will I set them free?
Will you?
In Christine’s beautiful poem she shares the many ways “they” are still present and in active relationship.
Listen, feel, and see then acknowledge, trust and act.
For me it is an invitation to live a page in a larger story than mine alone. Our roots are intertwined. Not a sense of my smallness but of “our” largeness.
Thank you Christine
Christine! What a deeply inspiring poem! My heart and soul were deeply touched, reminding me the light is always on…
I loved this post Christine. Would love to share with you a short story I wrote a few years ago with a similar theme. Angela
This is so very beautiful.
I love your poem!!! It makes me want to listen more.
I am touched by your final request to hear and set free those voices, whispering their truths. Thank you for reminding me to trust those quiet moments, to listen more deeply in order to understand who I am—to hold gratitude for those who loved me into being.
Thank you for putting such healing thoughts into words. I find them comforting. They make me want to remember.