Crowded flight
Crying baby somewhere up front
Weary passengers
Unfriendly
Unyielding
Formidable tension
Then slow, deep sounds
A rich reverberant hum blankets every ear
It is the four men dressed in African robes and sandals
Somewhere behind us
...Singing? Yes.
Harmonizing
Chanting with the pulse of a calming heartbeat
Not one word is spoken
Released from the shackles of stress
A long collective sigh
And the baby sleeps.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I didn't even know about this blog!
Love this poem, Stacy. Very beautiful!
xoxo
Ma
Post a Comment