Words that chant from the dust of the past
tickle today’s heart
like trout whispering to the water
with veined and subtle fins.
A single person,
a single voice,
gives a plaintive curl of smoke.
Many voices run like fire through the soul.
Words are clear and solitary in plainsong.
There is no melody to sweeten
or instruments to hide.
Words are sung to nakedness,
to bones,
like the dry, sharp voice of the drum.
And how beautiful is the stark word
unbroken by damp sentiment
or hollow promises.
Plainsong is all backbone,
calling us away from excess,
hard and certain in its faith.
This article appears in Humboldt At Work.