I Sing

This poem is A Recent Addition

This poem was inspired by Walt Whitman's bold approach to his beliefs and convictions. He awakened the same in me. If you read his "Leaves of Grass" you will see daring verse and abandon of fear that he put into his poems that sometimes may not be understood.  NEXT POEM

                                        Cries echoing down through the ages 
                                         sing to me of where I might go.

                                        How to plant my staff 
                                         as I trek the pitfalls.

                                        They sing to me their subtle persuasions 
                                         from lessons reaped from tears and pain.

                                        I hear them and honor their 
                                         blood-wrought wisdom.

                                        Always singing, bringing me closer 
                                         to their understanding of God's intent.

                                        All that drives each of us 
                                         in passion and bliss.

                                        Now, I too sing. I sing to the 
                                         babe at it's mothers breast.

                                        I sing to the souls yet unborn 
                                         and those reawakened.

                                        My anthem tells of their glory 
                                         secreted in their quiet mind.

                                        Glory coursing through their veins; 
                                         the magic bursting from their fingertips.

                                        I tell them; 
                                         You are the answer. 

                                        You are the song that 
                                         the ages have sung.

                                        The sound of harps plucked 
                                         by angels are You.

                                        The promises of prayers lifted from 
                                         trembling lips for ages are You.

                                        I sing to them: Go forth without fear, shrug off 
                                         all ill that befalls you.

                                        Hold your head high as you 
                                         bring your gift to life's table.

                                        For the wonder of the stars 
                                         and the universe are yours.

                                        The wisdom forcing through 
                                         the broad ether is yours.

                                        The love that will conquer all 
                                         is yours.

                                        I sing this to you 
                                         as it was sung to me.

                                        Know that God is with you and in you 
                                         and you are of Him and He is of You.


                                        N.N. 9/21/09