Deja Vu
I just keep seeing them, the hooves pounding those old rain-soaked cobblestones, somewhere in the back of my mind. I feel the creeping fog against someone else’s skin, not mine.
An old iron lamp post and that old lamplighter, impressions are burned into my third eye. I knew him in another lifetime. I’ve traversed so much time, so many centuries in brief seconds.
All of my senses succumb to the lamp’s flame as it burns the oil and the scent of that old pipe that he smokes, this lamplighter.
Who is the woman in lace whose body, in which I am? From whose eyes do I look out over this emerald landscape from bluestone walls? She does not know the lamplighter in that other place. She lived four centuries before him, yet she is inside my head...my body.
Past lives reside in the soul’s backpack. We carry them through numerous incarnations and occasionally a memory escapes to speak, when we need it the most.
2-20-2023
Deja vu Poetry Contest
Unseeking Seeker
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