Author's note: Hello readers! It has been many years since I felt inspired to write anything and post it, so please be gentle.
Child Of My Memory
After all the time that had passed, anyone else could have forgotten. Owing to my nature I do not forget. With perfect clarity I remember you; a child of another mother, alone in the cold and in your pain. I felt a curious connection between you and I, so similar to that of my children yet so distant.
Even though the connection was stretched so far, it was inexplicably present. I lent you the strength I could – beyond the pain of the waking hours, I took to the sky with you, keeping your spirit alight and planting the seed of freedom.
I felt when you tried to move on, and for a time the connection dulled. A thin thread of awareness remained, and it was only enough to feel a distant stab of loss; twisting the connection sharply. Shortly afterwards, you were hidden from me behind the veil of a sleep lasting many years.
As those years passed, and I wondered after you. We we ever to meet again, lost child?
I knew the moment you woke, so much closer now. I was disappointed that your sleep had brought you no rest from your grief. It was not long before you drew closer, skimming by me. Worry replaced joy as your destination became clear – that place. What had happened to this child I care for as my own? Had he become like the others in that place where they had wounded my children and myself so?
The night has passed, and it is day. I can feel your excitement, though I do not know for what. The drumbeat of your heart builds and I feel your spirit rise, hanging suspended, before falling from apogee and breathing life into your body of the people.
I hear you clearer than ever before now and something has changed. The freedom I once tried to share with you beats within your heart and sings through your lungs; joy follows in its wake. As your new feet skim along my soil, I See what has happened to you. You have come home.
