Friday poem, Lance Henson

Happy Bastille Day. Storm something.

revolutionary song

dawn brings with it the sorrow of light
of one who does not want to be seen

a voice that must be hidden
in a place
that it does not belong

is it a river or a breeze
or the running water that grieves
onto itself

that makes one wish to be free

the forbidden song of the cricket
lies among the roses

a wind floats by whispering of che
and crazy horse

on a morning of frost
in the soreness of waking
the cry of humanity goes out of itself
as impossible to stop
as the weeping of water
as the weeping of a child

--Lance Henson