See What I’m Saying

the greatest poet’s voice need not be raised

by any other than stanzas upon which it stands;

not by the strength that heaves iron blades,

nor by the might and tyranny that crushes and oppresses whole nations of people,

not by the grip force that confines young men to prisons,

nor by the glittering soapboxes of politicians;

yet be it by the gushing ascent of geysers,

by the upthrusting of asparagus in Spring,

by the bursting of lava from mountaintops,

by the shifting of tectonic plates within the Earth,

by the emerging of diamond from coal.

the greatest poet’s voice need not be heard

by the ears of saints or priests,

or presidents or executives or chiefs,

or legislators or generals or admirals,

or directors or opinion leaders,

or connoisseurs or curators or procurers of fine art;

it only need be heard by the ears of single mothers,

and children fed bottles of Diet Coke calling it sustenance,

and homeless that sleep beneath freeways where it says “No Camping,”

and veterans denied their benefits,

and minimum wage breadwinners;

be it heard by standing columns under bridges,

by running re-bar in concrete streets,

by interweaving roots of the Redwood Forest,

and by chained links of fences sequestering vacant lots.

the greatest poet’s voice need only be seen,

though not necessarily as morning crimson dancing across Lake Michigan,

nor evening fire sinking behind Olympic Mountains,

and not as blood staining asphalt after MTD bus vs. college student,

nor parents’ grimacing, saying farewell to their parents;

but as silence between sips of shared tea,

and as the night sky viewed from rural lands,

like beads of sweat dropping into freshly dug soil,

like heads on pillows just moments before sleep.

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~ by djderdiger on April 12, 2013.

Let it flow...

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