Celestial Eyes: Memory of Encounters Past. {poetry}
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I used to write poetry a lot when I was a teenager.
Without knowing it, it was my way of regulating my emotions, a healthy expression of my inner world and perhaps an attempt at reconciling whatever I was navigating in my outer world. I used to write a lot of poems about boys, knowing little about what love (in the romantic sense) really meant. But, despite my limited experiences at the time, I see now that the romantic was always in me.
I’ve always believed in some sort of ‘meant to be’, and by that, I mean that there is more to our encounters than meets the eye. Perhaps we cross paths with certain people because they teach us something we need to learn, or maybe they hurt us because in some bigger picture way we need to experience the pain to foster growth.
And maybe some encounters are true gifts from heaven, sent as protectors of our soul. It might be a starry-eyed philosophy, but what of those rare encounters? The ones that grace us maybe once or twice in a lifetime?
What is life if you don’t believe in fairy tales? Not perfect tales, because no one person or partnership is flawless, but fairy tales, because there is a magic in some encounters that can’t be reasoned around. There is an intuition that exists, a knowing that verifies a prior existence, the presence of something bigger at play, something enchanting.
And with that, the teenage girl inside of me lights up and says, “I told you so.”
***
Have you ever felt like you’ve known someone before you know them?
A recognition, perhaps? A kindred knowing? A rendezvous within the eyes?
It’s like a sixth sense of sorts, a soul’s memory of encounters past.
I don’t know exactly how to describe it, and yet I do know.
It’s an impression, a bond born amongst the stars.
It’s a spark kindled by sight, a lunar awakening of two journeys entwined.
I know little of what’s been before, only that it has been.
And I know not of where it will take me now, if anywhere at all.
Yet, I revere the meeting.
It tickles me and frightens me amongst a veil of comfort, because I know those eyes.
I remember their celestial being.
I feel their healing ways, their softening of my heart and the awe of their brown awareness.
It’s like coming home.
Flying through a spotted sky, floating in a maze of yellow flowers.
And so, beyond the mask, beyond my wounded soul, I have but one golden aspiration, an eternal wish.
I hope wherever those eyes land in this time and space, if not before me, they land in a garden of serenity.
***
Rochelle Smith is a dreamer and a creator. She loves the synchronicity of life and all things philosophical. Rochelle left a 12-year corporate career to pursue her dream of becoming a writer and a psychologist, and is currently undertaking postgraduate studies in Psychology at Monash University. She describes her approach to the helping profession as “mixing the science of psychology with soul,” and aims to assist people to reconnect with their true center. Rochelle is an aspiring author, and believes in living in truth, to heal and ultimately fulfill individual potential. She loves people and believes in the kindness of humanity. Rochelle founded The Honour Project on Facebook and Instagram, spreading her insights on life and the benefits of honoring who we are to improve overall well-being and mental health. Her writing is her therapy, and through her clarity of expression, she hopes to touch others by sharing her own wisdom, lessons learnt, and soul.
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