It flows through me, as river does to sea I try to be different, but I am me. Countless Fathers, countless Mothers before Living in woods, on river banks and shore. Before the time of Christ, beyond their years, It flows through my children, beyond their years Allowed to be free it grows and flowers Forced to lie dormant it withers and sours. Each child must be allowed to sing their song No matter how loud or soft or how long. To paint with their own pallet of colors Not with mine, not with yours, nor a brothers. We must ride our own lifes' current, or walk In the steps others chose for us, and talk The words they want us to say, and the lives They want us to lead, like bees in the hive. I see the world through my ancestors eyes, I can feel their presence, so old and wise, Directing me, guiding me, pushing me Into the current, to make me be me. Stop. Clear your mind and listen to yourself. Turn that radio off up on the shelf. Listen, your life force is softly speaking Unheard, but there, like a floor boards creaking. Your rivers current within you races Look deep and you'll see your parents faces Smiling up at you, wishing you good speed And much happiness, and that you succeed. With one child grown and almost two more It's time I listen, open up that door And step outside, follow the rivers' path. It's time to bring life to this Mothers' calf. Time to jump in and the current follow. Time to shake off my past life so hollow. A drone in the beehive I've been too long. It's time I must paint my own persons' song.
Reason for writing:
Words have always danced in rythmn in my head. My oldest child is a promising musician with the courage to pursue his dreams . He has inspired me to pursue my own course.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Brian S. Clemons-Aquarius.