Awake the Sleeping Souls

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Nestled in the middle of nowhere in a field of forgotten dreams lie the sleeping souls of our past. The eternal slumber peaceful and serene. A metal gate secured by lock and key, as if to keep the ghosts of yesterday from fleeing or abandoning their desolate and overgrown kingdom of loneliness.

AWAKE THE SLEEPING SOULS

By Al Garcia

Nestled in the middle of nowhere in a field of forgotten dreams lie the sleeping souls of our past.  The eternal slumber peaceful and serene.  A metal gate secured by lock and key, as if to keep the ghosts of yesterday from fleeing or abandoning their desolate and overgrown kingdom of loneliness.  It is a place of solitude for those that visit once or twice a year to pay homage to their remorse, regret, guilt, or even genuine sorrow and unending grief.  Guadalupe El Torero Cemetery in Puerto Rico, Texas, northwest of Edinburg, conceals the secretes and omissions of unfinished lives and abandoned hope.

Guadalupe El Torero is the final cradle of one’s existence and one’s persistence.  It is a place to cry, to remember and to relive the moments that were shared.  It is the gateway to the promises of faith, and a window to visions of our own mortality and humanity.  It is where truth exists unveiled and uncluttered with the ordeal or miseries of living.  It is a field of dreams no longer fighting to be freed, but seeking only to be left alone to fade and blend into the waves of time that sweep across the crumpling and decaying stones that bear unreadable names and long-ago dates.

To walk among the broken and forgotten headstones I feel a sense of kinship and affinity.  I feel I want to awake the sleeping souls that lie beneath the dry and sacred ground and thank them for the extravagance of their efforts in chronicling the narrative of my past and clearing the paths that I have travelled and the roads that have led me to this time and place.  For it is the memories of their lives that gave me the nerve and confidence to walk alone through the valleys, and the courage and the strength to climb the hills and conquer the mountains, and finally reach the mountain top.  But most of all it was their muted cries and prayers that they uttered and that they endured, that gave me the voice to speak the words they never spoke.  I am a part of them I know.  I feel the essence of my past as I stand before the graves of those who gave me life, then nurtured and loved me each day of their lives.  And I feel the passion of my past just standing before the graves of those I never met or knew, but who in some way dreamed of me before I came to be.

Awake the sleeping souls!  Your dreams did not die or fade away.  Your hopes and expectations linger still within the hearts and souls of those that never will forget your muted voices or valiant battles that you fought.  And as I walk among the remnants of your lives, I feel my strength renewed and my courage restored and replenished.  For you are the inspiration and the motivation that changed the world around me.

And as I walk through the quietness of Guadalupe El Torero, I say a silent prayer – awake the sleeping souls – you are not alone and never were.  I still hear your voices.  I still remember.  I am that part of you that you left behind to live, to grow, to thrive.

So many fields of dreams.  So many sleeping souls.  So many silenced voices, and so many memories lived and shared that will keep the dreams alive . . . .


Submitted: May 23, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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