My Heart Speaks
Woolen objects wrapped up in fine linen tucked away on a shelf bear the scars of age-old men lamenting in their years, while the sound of young men gets ready to join the conscription line thunders in the streets and anxious mothers running around in a frenzy consoling their sons.
The temperature keeps rising and mulberry tree in all its splendor stand still absorbing the peace as the sentiment of the earth embraces its fate and looking around for an answer that have traveled around the world to console those innocent souls.
I watched the squirrels running up the mulberry tree, hiding among the branches in a peculiar motion that I could not understand. The animals bear the witness of the hidden grave that lies at its roots. The mulberry tree is a witness to the brutal murder hanging from the throne where the mulberry tree has grown.
I feel a sudden urgency in my feet propelling me to walk in the desert heat and mix the desert dust with sand and sprinkle it all over the land but I can see a barrier erected in the way and the moment quickly fades away.
My heart is invoking a strange feeling and I cannot understand the meaning, I forced myself to pull it back but an element keeps wrestling with my spirit setting my heart on fire.
It is not the fire that glows in firewood, it isn’t the fire that dance like a servant should, it is the fire of the weak that is speaking to the deep and the matchless price that you have to pay. It’ burning with internal fury paving the way for a new chapter as the vision gets wider.
I can see them lining up, hundreds of them standing at attention and their guns strapped across their back. They are getting ready for a mission that requires great devotion they are up against the army guard and the notorious “alcoholic” lords.
The guns alone cannot defeat them, the belly dance, hips up and bottom down and galls sliding beneath their night gowns with ribbons and skirts to move away the earth and squeeze the passion out of their heart and melt the pride of hard tone men.
My heart is contemplating a delicate matter so ride with me to the next level and I will show you something spectacular, there are millions more miles to go and my heart is in tune for the greatest show.
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2023
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