what are the songs you
long to sing?
the ones whose tunes effortlessly
drip off your tongue.
whose notes tumble over your
vocal chords like the water of
a babbling brook, or the
low rumble of afternoon
what are the stories you
wish to tell?
the ones full of sweet whispers
of truth, beckoning the nods
of strangers and lighting
souls up like lanterns.
the stories for which there are
what are the dances you wish
the ones that move through you,
taking your body along for the
ride. the ones that are slow and
fast and asymmetrical. the ones
that summon the tides of emotion
and sweep away the cobwebs of
what are the dreams you wish
the pictures of yearning and
meaning and truth.
the ones whose images infuse
the silence with psyche’s
personal language, the one only
she can speak and comprehend.
the dreams that require no words
and yet reach out to the dreamer with
grasping arms and pleas to be
from what cages to you wish to
the ones that mute the song and
stifle the story.
the ones that cripple the dance and
pinch the dreamer by walls
the ones without doors or windows
or locks, that are fashioned out of
wring yourself out of the cage’s
pores. you needn’t be trapped