Holding Vigil

As I passed through the dark of my home this morning,
  I felt the presence of many souls peering at me from outside.
  I sensed an urgency, a desperate need to reach me from beyond.

I stood before them, square feet, broad shoulders,
  my arms drawn across my chest, my stance strong.
  Feeling a threat, I told them,'You may not enter here.'

I cleansed the entire house, blocked their entrance into my space.
  As I stood strong before each window, I saw a small statue
  of an African woman holding vigil over an eternal flame.

The spirit of Africa flows through her, touches my soul,
  carries me back to Zimbabwe, the land where the heavens
  touch the earth and voices of all-past ring across the savanna.

'So many souls, so much pain, so eager to release the pain,
  so thirsty for compassion, so hungry for love,' she whispers.
  'Don't drive them away.  Embrace them, touch them with love.'

'There is only fear and love.  With love, there can be no fear.
  They seek you because you can see, you can help,' she explains.
  'Gift them with love.  Melt fear with compassion.  Hold vigil, always.'