This book of poetry is about remembering . . . about piecing together the forgotten and denied . . . about watching a picture take shape and, along the way, . . . about choosing the mastery necessary to paint one's desired portrait of self. It is not an original portrait but rather one we all share in common. This is what makes it so compelling. What is uniquely original is the varied routes we each choose on this journey through the heart.
A Warrior, A Witness, A Wizard
Somewhere in my distant past,
not this life, millennia before,
a great pain took hold of me.
I was a Warrior then
and the pain became sword and shield
laying waste to enemies on countless battlefields.
It was a lonely time
punctuated by the grey din
of victory, survival, loss of innocence.
Such constant vigilance
wearied my warrior heart.
Weakened, I laid down my armour.
“Too much death, too much destruction,”
my soul whispered.
And so birthed the Witness within.
Weaponless, watching pain leak from pores,
my wizened skin shrank from the memories.
The magic lay in feeling its passage without re-injury.
READ MOREFrom compassion, the Wizard was given life.
And the Wizard, never content
to accept fate, chose magic instead.
This is what souls are made of —
stunted survival, heroic deeds, and choice.
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