The knowing of something unknown That crawls through my thoughts As if I’ve lived it before My spirit holds truths That is written on my bones Knitted in my pulsing veins Clarity in upside-down and Inside-out moments Presence in the chaos Feral ancient knowledge Forms itself in darkness Comes to unbearable light My soul carries fragile wisdom From the spirit world Into my consciousness Secrets from the Cosmos Engraved with stardust Onto my beating heart Unspoken truths Scrawled on my tender skin With blood-red ink
That deep remembering, not exactly deja vu' but a knowing that we know what we know. This was a great exploration of how we are a collection of experiences and feelings. The human condition. Thank you for this. Love, Virg
I love this word, anamnesis. And your poem captures the intricate layers with such profundity. My late son, Elliot, used it in his poetry and insisted that he was just a vessel and a thief. He said his writing was simply the product of everything he had ever read and absorbed. I know now that included his soul.💙
A very powerful piece of writing Rea, upon reading this is how I felt …
Interconnectedness, seasonal and natural rhythms. Nourishment for the soul. Thank you Rea
Thank you, Mark! I love that.
wisdom sits in the feminine. in you. this is striking, rea.
Thank you, pen.
That deep remembering, not exactly deja vu' but a knowing that we know what we know. This was a great exploration of how we are a collection of experiences and feelings. The human condition. Thank you for this. Love, Virg
Exactly! Thank you, Virg. ❤️
Powerful stuff Rea 💪❤️
Thank you, my friend! ❤️❤️
A familiar feeling. I always remind myself that I know more than I think I do and I need to trust my feelings. Thank you, Rea
We know when things are wrong, and we should heed that. Thank you for your comment, Daniel.
Beautiful poem, Rea! I love all of it; these lines really landed for me:
"My soul carries fragile wisdom
From the spirit world
Into my consciousness"
Yes, we can have wisdom, but it is fragile in that wisdom can be fleeting.
and the ending, which stunned me:
"Unspoken truths
Scrawled on my tender skin
With blood-red ink"
I'm happy you enjoyed it, Beth. Thank you.
I love this word, anamnesis. And your poem captures the intricate layers with such profundity. My late son, Elliot, used it in his poetry and insisted that he was just a vessel and a thief. He said his writing was simply the product of everything he had ever read and absorbed. I know now that included his soul.💙
That's a beautiful thought, Elaine. Thank you. 💞
I like this. Well done.
Thank you, Nancy.
Rarely have I seen the interior life so fully expressed. This is me in a nutshell. I love this.
I’m happy you enjoyed it, Stephen.
I love every line! Each word is so carefully crafted. Thanks for sharing this piece
Thank you, dear Gabi!
you have a clarity that helps me find the right-side up.
That makes me happy, Chris!
This is really lovely, Rea.
Thank you, Sylvia. 🩷
Thank you, Beth! I'm glad it spoke to you.