From
Houston onto Phillie marks a trail
of
brothers bound together by the past ‒
those
golden echoes ringing down at last,
as
axes crack the fear and rend the veil.
That
Memphis spirit tells a gospel tale ‒
small-framed
but with a mighty vocal blast,
a
tenor voice, so clear and unsurpassed,
transforming
to a preternatural wail.
So
sound the trumpet, bang the drum, proclaim
humanity
in each and every guise ‒
our
imperfections all mapped out in scars,
our
virtue burning like a holy flame.
Eternity
may face us down with knives
but
words will never cage just who we are.
RJT
No comments:
Post a Comment