In my Ears

I awoke with the sound of voices in my ears. Shakers in my ears. The sound of flapping fabric, banners billowing, harnessing the power of gusting winds.

I awoke with three hundred thousand bodies, six hundred thousand feet sending shocks through the concrete, moist grass muddy and already regenerating, stroller wheels marking a peaceful path. I awoke surrounded by chests heaving, lungs expanding, contracting with shared calls, rhythmic expressions rising up, up.

Masses of bodies forming shapes, symbols of peace and frustration, stating changes as they happen.

I awoke on the streets of Montreal; skin raised like the high note of a Mahalia Jackson run, tears in her eyes, mouth wider as it can, vocal chords reaching all the way to the clear blue sky, all the way to the pacific, piercing through tall stocks of wheat, blasting through mountains; dynamite to the ancient rock, through cities, all glass and invincible.

I heard voices as I woke up and I hear them still!