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 Feb 2020 Shyanne
Mary-Eliz
Do I believe in reincarnation? No. not in the strictest sense.
But if matter can neither be created nor destroyed I think there
must be
a piece of everyone's heart still beating somewhere
in the past or future tense.
I know we all become dust, but that dust becomes someone new
and so it takes a thousand parts to make a life, not just two.
And that is why maybe you cry at the sight of daffodils blooming
because a part of you lost his mother in the spring.
And somehow you are sure that you have heard your lover's
voice before.
(I swear, they feel it, too
because a piece of them also once loved a piece of you.)
I like that idea, you know.
That we are bound to other people
by carrying the traces of these same old souls
from a thousand years ago.
When I first discovered this young poet, I thought it was a "he" since I had only heard the name "Finn" used as a boy's name. It turns out it is a "she." But I've not been able to find out much more even though part of my reason for ordering her book "From the Wreckage" was that I had hoped it would have some brief biography. All her poems speak to me on a very deep level, but when I read this one, I felt as if she had somehow plunged into my mind and pulled out my very thoughts.
 Feb 2020 Shyanne
Sue Collins
Bright eyes that see colors everywhere rather than a drab monochromatic view  of the world

A nose that can appreciate good Scotch and night-blooming jasmine, at the same time

Ears that can hear Mozart and Queen, a cascading waterfall, and the click-click of a puppy’s paws

A mouth that can open wide to condemn evil but stay tightly shut when listening to a friend
Of all the walls in all the world
you ended up on mine
and
I'm very glad you took the time]
to climb it.

In the old town atop the hill where
the fortress stood and stands there still
she stands there waiting,

The sky caves in as the Muezzin calls
ancient girls in even older shawls
tread softly to the mosque

but I was lost in the art of it
the religion just being a part of it,
my heart was atop the hill
where she was waiting,
still waiting.

— The End —