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Andrew Johnson

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Member Since: Before 2003

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by Andrew Johnson

Tuesday, February 05, 2002

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I looked deep within your soul and I saw reflections
Of who your were,
Of who you are and
Who you are going to be.

I saw lofty clouds on high,
Driven by the winds of your mind.
I saw soft music on moonlit nights,
Where whispers of love lingered on summer breezes.

I saw expectations of greatness,
Wrapped with pride, passion and eagerness of life.
I saw who you were, what you wanted to do,
I saw you standing alone, looking off toward yonder sky.

But then I glanced at the reflection that is you now,
I saw drifting storms, furious winds and turbulent times.
I touched your face and the tear stained tracks,
I listened to a heart kneeling in prayer.

I watched the turbulence twist from side to side,
I watched the clouds darken the horizon.
I saw you standing, face toward the west,
Head bowed, shoulders slumped; but spirit alive.

I saw your arms extended toward the sun,
Embracing the warmth of the noon day offering,
I saw you wrap your arms around God,
And close your eyes when all was lost.

Oh but when I glimpsed that last,
Reflection of what was you.
A look of confidence across your face,
For the future reflection of your life.

With tears of joy now replacing the sadness,
And touching your heart felt much alive,
I cuddled you to my chest and protected,
And like an Eagle, you returned to the sky.

I watched you soar toward heaven,
I saw you shed your earthly garb.
I saw your wings spread across the heavens,
And watched you glide on the currents of time.

Oh how flawlessly you bridged the time,
From where you were to where you are.
I watched your love grow and develop,
I watched you master your heart and soul.

And now again I see you as you are,
Just a woman who has a heart.
I see you on a hill, a mountain and in the sky,
At the juncture of your tri-existence.

Must I admit that I stole this glimpse,
While you slept at early dawn.
But no matter when I looked,
I saw a woman whose soul is full.

Reflections are strange indeed,
If only they reflect what we want.
But I looked into your soul this day,
And now I am afraid to look at mine.

The Ebony Poet
(c)copyright 1994

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Reviewed by Joann Muszynski 2/5/2002
Very wonderful piece this is. Enjoyed the imagery and the sensitivity behind the point of view. Enjoyed.
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