Murmurings of an Open Heart

Many years ago
I sat in sadness
pain, dismay
I chose to live

I still remember the noons
and afternoons
I still remember
and I sorrow
missing most
the spirit of saneness

The river home
has become a vastness
not easily broached

A tattered heart
much like a splattered page
must gasp for breath and reach
to match the rhythm
of its soul

And time again
will come to be its own solace
as healing wholeness
arises from the fount.



©Sojourner Kincaid Rolle
All Rights Reserved

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