Writings:

MY  HEART  SPEAKS

 

 

 

“It has been long that I have waited to be heard.

 

A mighty fortress am I, fires burning on the fort top in torches held

By the protectors of this Domain.

 

A constant standing vigil have I kept For Myself,

 I must protect

From those who would harm me.

 

This place is dark and cold and men guard the heights,

Seeing to it, that all is well.”

 

 

 

Deep, deep down inside is a grand white light begging to be freed.

 

Stands alone a sole white gowned woman

Tiny, slight, and slender.

She calls out her longing to express

The love she would address.

 

It is challenging to hear her song

For the noise of all the fighting above and round her is strong.

But sing she must and sing she does,

For one day she will have the strength in love,

To let these walls fall down and to the ground.

 

 

“This fortress has become my prison and my safe place, a dungeon.

Here, the only light is mine and dim it is, at the present time.

 

I have become a prisoner of my own fears

And would that I could cast away these walls,

as one would remove her garments.

 

 

 

 

Alas, I fear no more strength have I to do so,

For this constant vigil has left me exhausted beyond my means.

My hope is fading as is my light

And soon will be extinguished if aid I receive not.

 

 

             I do not remember how it feels or what it is

To be above the ground, for I have not ventured to the heights of my fort but

A few times and felt this too strange to stay.

 

Would that I had the courage to rise and remain awhile.

That this feeling of joy and freedom feel known and casual,

But until then, I must be content to practice in my visions and in my dreams,

Imagining that I can truly live in a land of friends, not enemies.”

 

 

After a brief spell, I find the circle I am standing upon,

Lifted out and into the light. I am on the roof of my fort.

It is daytime. It feels as though I have awoken from a nightmare

And the sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky.

 

The fighting, the fires, shouting and turmoil have disappeared

And I wonder if I have but dreamed all of this.

The surface upon which I find myself is clean and flat.

The same brave men who defended me are still with me,

And all is well!

 

From this vantage point I see not battle, but on every side,

Luscious green grass, trees, PEACE.

All is still, yet wait! I see something below emerging from a path.

There is a line of  persons coming single file.

 

 

 

Each carries a gift and the gift is for me.

 

 

                                                                        Frances Keyes