It has been said
that the dead do not speak,
but they do, if the ear
is attuned to their mutterings;
as far as family stories go for us
my mother,
my grandmother,
my great-grandmother,
and I
have been told in dreams
when someone loved
climbs the ladder to heaven,
or will climb it soon
we do not even know what tells us.
This is no blessing or curse,
just something we carry
inside our blood,
perhaps nothing more
than an ability to listen well
& that same sense
tells us when we meet someone living
who will be significant
to our lives in some way:
a knowing
that tingles up the spine
and raises fine hair
on my forearms,
this body simply a finely-tuned antenna.
Some people make religion
of this same knowing,
not I. Spirit whispers
can mislead,
& are of little value
to the living.
My God is alive.
How can one worship
a sense
or court a feeling
that has me pass strange graveyards
& empty houses
quickly, breath held,
my hands tight
over those invisible ears?
Susan Daniels Poetry 
This poem resonated, yet I do not know why
glad it spoke to you 🙂
Your poem is magic! ESP (extra sensory perception) to decode signs of imminent separations and also fine tuned enough to pick up vibes and signals of fruitful connections with the living. lovely poem! Dread of some locations? any role for psychology and associations here? Forget this last question and simply enjoy the good feel that comes from crafting a beautiful song!
Thanks Noel–just exploring another gray area 🙂
The image of hurrying past a graveyard or empty house was generated by Zoe, my daughter, who insists she must hold her breath and pass quickly by places like this, so she won’t breathe in a ghost–I had to use it somewhere 🙂
and you used it so well. any ideas where Zoe picked up this conception?
I am going to add the held breath thing, as a further nod to Zoe 🙂
great idea!
Yes–a game a friend started on the school bus, while the bus drives past a cemetery—and I can’t shake it from her. Of course, this is from the child who came to me at 4 and said– “Mom, I just bumped my head and broke my imagination.”
I don’t think there is a chance of that ever being broken 🙂
Very well written poem Susan
Thank you Dewey.
*like* A spirit of the living…
Thank you, Nelle.
Whenever I stood at a crossroads in my life
I consulted a voice within
There was always an answer
Right one or wrong one
I’m yet to know
🙂 like it!