The song of humanity.

The trees, the dolphins, and

the mountains call to me

and demand to be seen.

I can’t look away.

The bird’s song,

the breeze, tickling the trees,

the way a flower grows

from a teeny seed.

I can’t look away.

I see their creator in them.

His design, his joy,

his creativity is in the magenta flower,

the succulents, the manatee,

the neon tree frog, and the terrapins.

They sing a song over me and

I am compelled to sing with them.

I want to join the chorus.

What are the notes?

I don’t know their song.

What are the words?

How do I join them?

Humanity has a song, too.

I can hear it

when I listen.

The song is constant –

everyone taking a breath

at a different time.

Some scream to be heard.

Some sing into a void

where no one listens.

Some are making their

own stages.

It’s hard to listen to the song because there’s

so much to grieve,

so much hurt

and righteous anger

in the song.

So much so that sometimes I try to silence it.

Headphones on.

Head down.

Just make sure

all is well in my house –

that everyone under my roof

can sing.

But.

My song is the song of humanity.

My voice is meant to be

heard and it is meant to

amplify the song that

others are singing.

I can’t not listen to their song

and there’s no other song

for me to join in on.

I can’t look away.

They demand to be seen.

I can’t look away.

I see their creator in them.

His design, his joy,

his creativity is all

over us all.

My voice must add to

their song of long-awaited,

the-time-is-now

justice.

Otherwise,

I

am

just

noise .

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