An Old Tin Box And An Ancient Battered Suitcase

Through an old tin box

And an ancient battered suitcase

I heard their distant voices

Echoing through time.

And in their callings

I sensed the myriads.

A sister's keep-sake told

Of a mother's darling son

Who took the King's shilling

For freedom and adventure.

Now sleeps in a far off land.

From the Mother of Parliaments

In faded handsome script

Gratitude for a life given

Saving a multitude

And leaving behind a mystery untold.

In a faded creased envelope

Lay a green silken kerchief.

Cherished by a love struck maiden.

Love's young dream

Forever held in a token given.

I glimpsed their fleeting lives

Saw their pain and joy

Felt their brokenness

Touched their wholeness.

And gave life to their memory.

Through the mystery of Time

I sensed the Oneness of all.

That day too I saw my lineage

And communed with the ancestors.

By way of an old tin box

And an ancient battered suitcase.