Don’t ask me how I knew you—
I have carried your name through a long and weary road,
Past the rolling hills that bent beneath sorrow,
Through deep valleys where the lost kept calling,
And over mountains too high for the living to climb.
I came by wind, by rain, by fire, by pain,
With ash in my mouth and night in my bones.
So don’t ask me how I knew you—
Some souls are remembered before they are born
-Kakesha-
© 2026 Kakesha Thompson. All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced, distributed, or adapted without written permission.