Searching Soul Contents Poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain

Searching souls for lives that lack,
Places and peoples that just don't match,
For a time and place,
Are memories kept,
Of ones,
Whom's life could not totally be erased,
For the memory still remains,

Searching souls of soul's contents,
Of those with religion still intact,
That, that, have seen,
Those, that, have heard,
And those, that, were victimized,
Yet, still survived,
Is where the psyche movers know those names,
And their free spirits in kind,

Searching for those that took part of their time,
Time of a person held for only who they choose,
Time is taken and they left there scattered and torn,
Time passed on where those captured could not be found,
Till, lapsed memory of the happening was suppressed,
So, the real story could not be told,
And the free-spirited kind was set free without and abandoned,

The psyche movers that catch up with them,
Begin in searching in their soul contents,
With name and place of the lost soul,
To know what theirs was,
To try and return them back there again,
Unless they just want to forget and start again,

For to take a person's life,
Leaving them in disarray,
Taking them away with past memory erased,
Where society sees them none,
From the taking of their identity,
And using what will say,
Is not you but them,
That see to the wants and needs of the deceitful,
What is gone and taken from you,
Is now the replacement of you and your past history,

To go with them and say as they want,
Is to take upon yourself,
And become one of them,
Or one for them,
Their advocate in society and building,
Of no return as now one of them,
With your soul contents no more intact,
With the deceits and all losing their soul contents,

So, when those that are held,
In memory lapsed and elsewhere,
Return to the knowledge of the lost years and in placing,
Can cleanse their robes or garments and self,
For soul still intact,
Yet Dorcas for a while,
As they try to break one's mind,
Body and free spirit,
When what did to what and to whom,
Is where freedom doesn't come easy,
So, to break free,
Was to fight the good fight,
And win back one's freedom,

The 19th century tells it all,
In religion, politics, places, and peoples,
Names and families,
Most left in gothic ways,
In a wicked state for a time,
Then from bad or worse,
Till the life of the past goes back into place,

Then what remains,
Is the past, present?
To then pick up and try and salvage,
Or in most cases,
Begin again,
Knowing all others have moved on,
As time did pass and lost were replaced,
By the kind face and knowing friends,
That understood so time did heal,
Those missing lost ones,

To those of the captive still only knowing,
What happened and why,
Is a name of many places,
Names and faces,
Traveling and keeping on the move,
Torn and scattered,
When trying to settle when finding some happiness,

Yet,
With soul contents of their book of life,
Whether good, bad, or indifferent,
Or even wicked with bad endings,
Was the insurance of don't touch?
That allowed them to be,
By the highway to the byways of life,
Yet, with no long settlement,
As always moved on,
For not settling for one of theirs,
Of advocates deceits,
So,
As to have your wants and needs met,
And life struggles made easier,

For there is those that did,
Once taken stay in with the ones,
That meet their wants and needs,
As long as they do it their way,

So,
Their soul contents start filling,
With their lies and deceits,
With those called the 'Gate Keepers',
That keeps them from getting out,
While still trying to snare,
The ones who broke free,
And not searching for soul contents,
For never wanting to be taken,
For were happy to be.