heartfelt
My Enigma
I'm tired of hearing I need to be figured out.
Nightingales
Ugonna Wachuku
Nightingales and whistling
pines are calling my name.
Clouds and shadows are
following my footprints
...
The way is so silent and lush.
But there are thorns and thistles
in the grass.
There are pink roses and blue
flowers. I walk this road slowly.
I trail my own footprints carefully
because I have been this way before.
I have seen those roses in your
heart before. And now, I do not
need any old time prophet to tell
me how your thorns feel. I do not
need your footprints to show me the
way either:
I will follow mine; even on thistles
and thorns because I have been this
way before. I know the soothing voice
of that noble nightingale on heaven's
pathway so relieving and hopeful.
I know that beckoning, still small
voice in the hollow of my heart.
I know the homely pine's whistling
voice in my ear. Surely, my footprints
are clear enough.
And gladly, I will, certainly,
on this walk home, hear that
refreshing, still small voice
in the pleading hollow of my
humble heart because nightingales
and whistling pines of home are
still calling my eagle-name...
I will be home...
I will gladly be home
for the nightingales
on those homely
whistling pines and
palm trees...
I will gracefully be home.
I surely will because those
inspiring nightingales and
whistling pines of home are
still calling my eagle-name
...