Singers

“A poem cannot stop a bullet. A novel can’t diffuse a bomb. But we are not helpless. We can sing the truth and name the liars.” – Salman Rushdie

There was a reed in her voice
this woman who loved me
unconditionally. A trill
and a pause and praising
the beauty of a spider’s
web, intricate and fine-
the makings of a bird’s nest
woven with the
joy of cross-stitch
an artist’s dream of
what the world could be.

It is what we have to do
isn’t it? Even if our voices are
thin and unsubstantial –
our sound – just the chip
of a sparrow or warbler
in fall, still vibrant and there –

always there no matter
the storm set against us
whether the schemes of the
kings of industry or the
antics of the clowns
In robes, we shall
keep on singing. And
telling the truth
as always.

7-2023