Poem: “The Song Remembers”
“The Song Remembers”
1.
A song cannot be touched,
yet it is felt.
When you write a song,
you feel like you have another
valuable stone in your pocket,
even if your fingers only find
sand when you next seek it.
Songs continue to exist,
even if they disappear.
When they are unsung,
they are as real as the wind,
yet more mysterious—
Unpredictable.
They find their form,
yet stay intangible.
They offer structure,
yet can come from chaos.
Songs are not currency,
even if we sing them for our supper.
They are not poems,
even if they borrow a poetic figure.
I have concluded—accepted rather—
that songs are the highest form of art:
the calm of the lullaby,
then the beat of the death rattle.
A song is more powerful than politics
even if it does not judge, nor legislate,
nor sign an executive order.
It reigns above and lifts below; it has always,
and always has.
Our mother’s heart beat echoes in our newly
formed ears as the choir in harmony fills
the great hall of a cathedral.
We often forget the power of song,
when we need it most.
Fortunately, the song remembers.
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