James Still Poem by Donna Branham
The soft, raspiness of the heartening voice
brought a stir to my soul,
tears to my eyes, comfort to my spirit.
The ancestral image, the old log house, I listened,
somehow feeling a connection to my past;
mesmerized by the beauty , the rhythm and the heart of his words.
This beautiful man loved the world his Master made
and the life he was given.
It would be only a dream to sit on his porch on a fall afternoon
and hear him speak of nature and life as he knew it;
to share stories from the olden days;
hear about loved ones, sorrows, struggles and fears,
of journeys, passions and successes.
It would be like listening to a well tuned
symphonic instrument – tranquil, smooth, comforting.
So late I have learned of him,
but now he will endure with me.
His words will be immortal,
and his voice never still.
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