So many singers.
Enough for four thousand choirs.
Was it God under their skins
that made notes emit from their bellies
bright as epiphanies?
Are we all pouring from the same endless ocean
of soul?
What is in us that makes this music?
It turns me inside out.
It moves and rocks my organs
into deep restoration,
takes me back to source.
So many singers.
So many mother songs
leading us into cosmic intimacy,
folding us into blankets of constellations.
What did I hear through the open window
of that kitchen in that second story apartment?
A medicine woman, a wise man?
Endless jazz and philosophy?
Was it a stranger understanding me?



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