Wisdom Writers by Preston Ryan

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Whispering Mind

In the winter breeze,unheard,unshared
Tauntened into bodices,subtly shaped by breathing
their palms and whispers,their lanterns are weeping
my mind is in the currents in the deep rivers
i heard my ancestors singing beneath my bed
and the windows shutters,began to tremble wildly aloud
the voices approaches me closer and clear
a hopeless case if i listen:there's a hell
to ravish the sensuous "whispering mind"
I am intimate with my naked soul
and the footprints of my people are in your heart
Quietly,i am embraced by the shadows of my father
and he whispers "negroes can be free"

Preston Ryan

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