A black wall. His fears standing

against him.

No breath blows the barrier down.

No shouts, push, pull

Or hide the anger.

But when he sings….

He sings the strength of trees falling,

owning the space where they lie.

His sound hammers the air,

framing rooms on the stage of

his mind.

And when he owns the jazz….

The jazz tears the colors separate.

Faces smile alike. Legs with dance

soul dip;

knees bend the travel of healing.

Walls bow to the strength of

his songs.


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