Conversations with the Dead...

Those visionaries brought visions of tradition and past crimes
Sad times and happy days of new life and birth
The scent of pecans fallen from trees in fall and the freshness of plums
From branches that overlooked the vestige of time
I sense the presence;
The aura of lives intertwined with every event of life and the
Smiles of security that ascend upon my soul at midnight
When the body has said goodnight, but the unconscious
Focuses keenly on the visionaries and downloads their message
Of tears and suffering and triumphs and joy in the Light
Completely washing away the dirt and grime of the day, renewing
The spirit and singing their verses of a destiny fulfilled in your ear
As sweet as the whispers of a new mother to her infant or the faint cooling wind
Of hummingbird’s wings after the first rain of spring
Take heed and drink thirstily from the wisdom of the trailblazers lest
Their testimony not be a balm to the wounds of your spirit and their
Watchful eyes go unnoticed as assuredly as an assassin slips past the
Slumbering watchman
Bind their courage around your hands and wield their faith to
Conquer the banshees and tell the Night to go into the Light
In all these things the dead will speak…