Poem by Dan Stone
We're not here
by decree.
It was our choice,
our right to sit
and ponder
where we are,
if we still
have a voice, a say
in what's ahead,
beyond our
wondering
what's alive or dead,
our hopes and fears
for how we fit
and how to save
our day, our dreams.
We may look down
but only for the time
it takes to see
how long, how far
before we know
it's all still more
than it may seem.
Until then, we
gather, wait
until it's right to go,
listen for the call
to speak, to rise.
We let this be.
We hear our
heartbeats
and our sighs.
We sip our tea.
We're not here
by decree.
It was our choice,
our right to sit
and ponder
where we are,
if we still
have a voice, a say
in what's ahead,
beyond our
wondering
what's alive or dead,
our hopes and fears
for how we fit
and how to save
our day, our dreams.
We may look down
but only for the time
it takes to see
how long, how far
before we know
it's all still more
than it may seem.
Until then, we
gather, wait
until it's right to go,
listen for the call
to speak, to rise.
We let this be.
We hear our
heartbeats
and our sighs.
We sip our tea.