LOVE

LOVE

Under the wet awning, a drum, auto-harp and tambourine,
and a singer, familiar with a great range of rejections,
          drums, sings,
strums time, keeps primal harmony,
          despite her broken history.

On the sidewalk under a line of full moon street lamps,
a group, comfortable with each other, are singing Gospel,
despite history and the bitter aftertaste of their sect,
they sing of forgiveness and abandonment
          to God’s mercy.

Through the weather-proof speakers,
outside the plate glass windows of Urban Outfitters,
come the new songs of the latest season,
          lyrics of loss and disloyalty, ash and envy,
and despite the odds come refrains of hearts aflame — 
          all the same old Greek gods.

Everybody in this city is singing
          of the one weary word,
romanticized, anesthetized, stalked, mocked,
soundly bruised and still unbowed, 
          somehow, undying and able,
they sing, for transforming.

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