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Poem: “The Song Remembers”

2025 January 22
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tags: ,
by Mike Vial

“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.

The rest of this collection: click here

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New Songs: “Free to Dream” & “DYKYFbN?”

2024 July 22
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by Mike Vial

In 2024, Ozzie Andrews, Sara Gibson, and Stuart Tucker joined me in the studio to record a song that’s waited for 20 years. I wrote “Free to Dream” after my first year teaching, and David Roof (producer) helped me make this song a nice moment to mark the end of my 20th year in education. The song is no2 on all streaming options and Bandcamp: https://mikevial.bandcamp.com/track/free-to-dream-single. We also cut a piano song called “If You Know Your Fears by Name?”: click here.

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New Song: “Verona”

2023 July 7
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by Mike Vial

I released a new song today called “Verona”! It feels good to be creating again, my first time releasing music since I became a dad! All streaming links in comment below.

Bandcamp: click here

Spotify: click here

Apple Music: click here

Amazon Music: click here

Six-year-old artist Alton says he is now famous because he did the artwork. I reminded him more people saw his work on display at the Hands on Museum than my music channels. Note, I did pay Alton in Pokémon cards for copyright usage of his abstract work; always pay artists.

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100 Years Ago, 100 Years From Now…

2020 December 29
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by Mike Vial
During the influenza pandemic of 1918-1919, some people poked holes in their masks to smoke, protesting local ordinances. Anti-mask leagues abounded, but most abided.

100 years later, we don’t gaze upon these photos of perforation with pride. We see, with clarity, those choices as misguided actions; however, we also pause, and look upon other questions:

100 years from now, what will our great grandchildren observe about our actions during this coronavirus pandemic? What will our time capsules of social media reveal about our nature? Did we protect ourselves and neighbor? Or did we pierce and puncture holes in safety, then publicly share and propagate? We all play a role in this group project.

I pray that future generations can feel pride in our next four to six months. They may applaud our miraculous, scientific speed as we vaccinate populations, but they will also note the miracles present in your daily sacrifices, your stamina, your conviction.

If you, too, feel another plague periodically—the plague of losing hope—remember, your photos of sacrifice sustain my hope, and maybe mine yours. Pandora’s box will close; hope will remain.

Our Place in the Universe this Holiday Season

2020 December 13
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by Mike Vial
During his 1933 inaugural address, FDR bluntly said, “They have no vision, and when there is no vision the people perish…” FDR addressed more than a ruinous Wall Street; he reminded America that “there was nothing to fear but fear itself.”
 
As I read his words in a modern light, I reflect upon how we have people using credit cards to pay rent, families forced to steal $15-20 of food to supplement the mouths of their children, and 13,000 people dying—this week alone—from a virus that thrives when we gather. I’m fearful, fearful that too many have given up on their personal responsibility of being a democratic citizen; abandoned their recognition that they are a potential host for Coronavirus, when contact tracing is overwhelmed; forgotten their ability to be an empathic neighbor.
 
We all have a small, yet connected place in this universe.
 
The vision of our holidays will be colored by Covid-19. We must applaud those who continue to sacrifice, sharing their meals with a smaller table, so we can beat this curve. We must do our part, so our health care systems don’t implode, especially in the rural, underserved corners of our country. We must reach out to our neighbors, safely distancing, so we remain socially connected. We must support our youth, not with assignments for points, but points of conversation, reading, writing, and reflection.
 
My wife and I cried this morning when we read the news that teachers in Michigan will be vaccinated sooner than predicted. We cried when we thought of friends who have lost family to this virus. And I cry when I continue to see a lack of mask wearing in a community I care about, tears that feel futile.
 
We can also have tears from joy and laughter. May your weekend be blessed, with poetry and music, family and faith, and forward-thinking.
 
I share these poems my virtual class read during the December weeks:
  • “Bad Day” by Jamaal May (here)
  • “At Dusk” by Natasha Trethewey  (here)
  • “Man Said to the Universe” by Stephen Crane (here)
  • “i thank the universe…” by Rupi Kaur (here), and
  • “The Universe as Primal Scream” by Tracy K. Smith (YouTube; here).
Join us in a thematic reflection about our place in the universe.

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