As I was looking at the journey of writing my first book, this is one of the past lives I saw. Yes, it was a life of seeing but also of persecution. However, there is no sadness or anger in my space around this memory. It was. And now I am. And all is well in my world.
Once I walked among the flowers.
I spoke to them, and
They answered me.
People came to me with questions
Small problems, preoccupations;
I heard them out.
I knelt beside the water,
And listened to what their spirits were saying.
I gave them back the words of their own wisdom,
Though they never believed that they themselves
They cast their wisdom back at my feet
Like broken jars
That cut me
And I bled of it.