I Was Here Before

I carry within me

this quaint feeling one many

an old soul and poet can attest;

That I was here before

 

I was here

when the light and sparks of time

from the warmth of the fire

between us, were fonder

 

In those years I swear

I danced, I swear

I laughed, cried

and shared heartily in the oasis

of life's innocence

and simplicity

Little much more did I need

in those times

 

We had not much

Needed not much

comrades I ran the race with

whose faces are fragments of a past

of sheer living beneath the stars

when hearts clad in minimal disguise

clamored for ideals

and what little contentment

and peace attainable

that mattered enough, then

 

I was here before

when nobilities were true

in art, in affection

in integrity, in humanity, in life

I know I was here before

when brotherhood and sisterhood

were as genuine 

as the vanguard microphones, cursive

handwritings and paint colored hands

whose virtues toppled many walls

built to class, and divide

 

I know my postcard sits as a footprint

on history's unwavering memory

that I was here before, and maybe

just maybe, that is why

water under bridges I don't

recognize this world much

and remain removed

and unmoved till our pulse recommits

the dreams of its inexhaustible

nostalgic rebirth, stone

against truncheon