Left Only With A Song Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Slaves were made destitute of their homes.
Their ancestors and their world were left only with a song.
To remember where they came from.
Left with only a song nestling in their breast.

The limb of a flowering bough dripping with dew
The fragrance of remembrances, kissing-embrace
The tears of a birthplace that still remembers
A wellspring of souls chained together without chains.

Such songs are not all hearts made of
Such songs are freely sung by creeks and rivers
Such songs are freely sung by the oceans of the universe
That pushes and pulls and binds all together.