Echoes From The Deep Poem by Nika McGuin

If my soul were a song
it would mix the beating of African drums
with the stomping of my ancestors' feet
as they dance under a scarlet sun

The lyrics would be ever-changing
and sometimes sung in a language that even I
do not understand - a language stolen and forgotten
Though many never realize,
the soul is omniscient
and forgets nothing

It sings to me of times past
of lost magic, and forgotten power
tells me that my soul, runs deeper than any river
and that within me reside the echoings
of all the women who have come before me
each of them, humming a different hymn

"Swing low, sweet chariot..."
I hear them singing in times of woe
and they often chide me
for all the things I do not know
I am like a child to them, you see

I don't know where I come from
my own people, beloved strangers
I know not even my own history
and much of what I do know
are half-truths and whitewashed lies

Oh, but my soul is an endless narrative
every page, filled with the voices of those who refuse
to let me forget - those who stubbornly demand
"Let me not be forgotten! "

And so,
I will listen
attentively
to their songs
both strange
and beautiful
echoing up
from the depths
of my soul