Empath,
Psychic,
Intuitive;
These realities
Are woven into my path.

Decades ago,
I, an adolescent so afraid
To ride the elevator
To the top of a tall building:
“They’re going to fall down,”
I sensed of it
And it’s twin.
I cried decades later
That September day
When they were humbled.
When we were humbled
By those airplanes.

I saw you, Brussels,
A month ago;
I didn’t know where,
I didn’t know when,
But, I saw you.

I grieve for you
And apologize
For the evil ones
Who crossed your path.

No
“Should have,”
“Could have,”
“Must have”
Litter my path
As this awareness
Of others’ evil
Is something
I’ve only recently
Been directed to know.

What is my role
When such visions
Embrace my awareness?
This I do not yet know.

Such a quandary
Will be resolved,
I know,
When I query
The Inner Voice.

© copyright 2016 John David Higham