The Blood of My Blood
Treasured the memories of souls now departed,
for their lingering lives forever imparted love,
and their tender sharing of life and self
will never leave the mind,
for who are we if not souls
of intention and connection,
of all we can be, shared in honesty,
within the ideals of our beliefs.
Sorely missed those who came before us,
who gave credence to love’s embrace,
the joy of sharing in time and space
to know what is important,
to justify our struggle and in sharing
find that commonality that gave hope
to imperfect beings,
here on our paths of learning.
Their voices echo in time,
seemingly foreign yet a knowing rhyme
of life’s play, the undulations, and disarray
that can so bring us to our knees,
if not for their sagacious words
that resonate deep within us,
and we suddenly realize
from whence those echoes come.
I can feel their angst, their sincere concerns,
as they relate to us, the blood of our blood,
and I often speak as if they were here,
words of solace to myself,
for I know they wish to hear them too,
and help when they can,
to embrace a thought that can alleviate the pain,
as I stumble within.
Treasured the souls now passed,
their lives a knowledge for respect,
and open I am to their suggestions, their pleas,
when I so disagree with myself,
struggle in confusion
for a perspective, I have not yet claimed,
and they want only to sympathize,
to diminish my self-inflicted lame resolves.
For we are learning souls,
and blood often the understanding of our orientation,
the common ground of family,
of lessons in destiny, and always I listen,
for that faint echo of what I should know,
to rectify the mistakes I’m so often prone,
when confused and not thinking straight:
so in the silence I calmly sate.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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There is comfort and wisdom in the voice of our ancestors – we do well to listen. Beautifully penned and emoted work, Tony. Take care.
Glad you appreciated it, Phyllis, Cheers!