Poetry | Voices | Mary Ann Schaefer

Voices listen
The world was once ordained by
tribal magicians: poets and dancers and
singers whose bodies could morph into 
instruments of liquified harmonies,
accented by pauses and vibrations and
a cadence that still echoes everywhere
in your ear.

That was long ago, in a dream 
perhaps, or somewhere in history or
among legends but here you are 
emergent, standing there and here, 
smiling and nervous, prepared and poised.
For however long you have induced 
any sense of waiting, that Time is no more.

And so in the now or never do I travel on
the waxing waves of the new moon to bring 
you greetings from far away, from deep within.
Here we meet again for the first time,
together in the blessings of presence and 
absence to honor the impending resonant
hush.  

We all know that when the moment
comes as it will, when the mystery 
intensifies and then vanishes altogether, 
there can be no turning back.  In all
honesty, the risk is at once fragile
and perfect.

For on the verge of that one unison breath -
with inhale of trust and exhale of purpose - 
shall our skin lift freely from the bones like 
a puff of dandelion seeds unfastened by a 
wish, sailing on delicate parachutes inside 
the undulating currents of collective 
possibility.

And as the listening and 
singing become interchangeable
and that which you divine ignites
into flame behind your eyes, 
know that you are already
inseparable from the splendid
splashing ovation.

So this is how I join you
in embracing whatever comes 
next.  This is how we keep promises
made to a bygone Self.  This is how 
we inherit the rounds intoned by 
silhouetted ancestors.  This is how the 
marrow of spirit incites a choral 
sunrise.