Image: Sooner Storm Photography
Some put it on in the background
Lulling their longings through tedious days;
Some defy the body’s trickle towards death,
Waking each cell through its throbbings,
Dancing the doomed world away in hopeless joy.
Some hear their lives stuttering through its stanzas.
Deaf drummers feel it through the skin’s vibrance
While forming babies warm to it in the lullabied womb.
Some sense its starkest call in the darkest dawn
Riding its rhythms to the barricade bars
While poets of everyday matters
Echo the sweet and sour silence and clatter
That crafts a weft between sun and stars.
Image: Carolin Nussbaum
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Stephen A. Linstead
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