I could hear it
our shoes making a shoddy moon
on the fifteenth floor looking out over the city.
I can always hear the other
the sound of killing
shooting, the ringing of it
the sound of racism
silence, the subtlety of it
the sound of oppression
cash registers, the shininess of it
the sound of isolation
weeping, the breath-stealing nature of it
I can always hear the paranoia in the shadows of the other
I can always hear the anger in the panicky crisis
I can always hear the hopelessness in the news banner
flashing across the bottom of the screen
but there
moon-shaped shoes filled with
women and men now family and friend
the best and true of both
standing up and holding hands in prayer
as if holding hands kept us from blowing down
or blowing apart
or blowing away
thy kingdom come
thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven
thy kingdom come
to the ringing
to the subtlety
to the shininess
to the breath-stealing
and make things whole
we asked.
And it was in that moment
over and above and beyond and inside and all around
I could hear the faint sound of something
a symphony of some kind
a little more melodious
a little more beautiful
a little more free
I could hear a faint sound of something
–a symphony of some kind–
and it sounded like hope.
djordan
Rosemary Beach
