Music perhaps. To soothe your beast. Arouse
your lamb. The news perhaps. To feed your fear.
Keep track of the enemy. Lover’s voice
perhaps. Or heartbeat. Or is it your heart?
Are you walking outside now? To witness
silence. Growl, hiss of occasional car.
Is it night now? Your breathing a caress,
a whisper of just how darkness might harm
or help you. Must you look up to assure
yourself of stars? Or can you hear their great
chorus? The moon’s lonely croon, distant, pure
reflective light. Do you sense vibes of fate
from your inner voice? Sacred hymn perchance.
Or chant. Vital rhythm calling to dance.
Roger Armbrust
June 13, 2020
