“Serenade of Roots”

Serenade of Roots

I hear the gentle echoes of my roots:
long,  knotty fingers
gloved with glaucous moss
disturb the river waters,
awaken the melodies that played
when the warmth of breath was on their nostrils
and the robe of flesh adorned the bones —

symphony of mandolins,
bamboo oboes,
harpsichord and pianos —

I hear their voices         when I speak,
taste their tears                when I weep,
feel their bodies sway          when I dance  —

I sing their forgotten songs
in the land of the living.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** Photography by Bob Spencer

19 thoughts on ““Serenade of Roots”

  1. Dearest Dee, I know this ~ I feel this. Although my roots run in a different direction, they drink of the life that is my own ~ feeding my own fragile blossoms. I love this sweet lament to love. Namaste, dearest Dee. I too celebrate your heritage. ~ Love, Bobbie

    • As I celebrate your heritage, too, as we both celebrate the life that throbs within our veins, the life-blood we inherited through the ages. Yes, we are fragile blossoms, and yet the fragrance lives on in the many words and actions we imprint upon this world. Thank you for the beauty of your words, Bobbie. Love, Dee

    • What a wonderful compliment. Thank you, Carroll, for your analysis of the poem, and for the time spent in reading it. Coming from a keen mathematician like you, who values precision and order, your kind words are truly uplifting. Thank you so much.

  2. Dee, i am feeling your words as I often hear the songs of the past sent to me as whispers on the wind, and their melodies dance in my heart, always reminding me, always renewing, always helping me to embrace their love and tears…so they are never forgotten…by those who live! Your poem is a sweet inner vision brought to light by your dancing words! Beautifully written and delivered as only you can do so perfectly! God bless!

    • Thank you for feeling the poignancy of these words, Ellen. I have always wondered about my ancestors, and in what several ways I was akin to the experiences and feelings they encountered. Why, they were all under the same sun, moon and stars, and their blood flows in my very veins. And I am sure you feel the same way about your forebears, Ellen. Thank you for reading this piece, and I wish you many blessings this weekend. Dee

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