Ritual Dance – Steven B. Smith
Tanka
Hat slouched over his eyes,
he misses a chord here and there–
but it’s no problem, he sings loud.
Then, suddenly, softly, one line
and in the darkness, I am weeping.
~ Geoffrey A. Landis
A Harvest Moon in the Hands of the People
Let us create a universe
Where leftover stars are exhaled
Into one another’s landscapes
If we are going to come into our own existence
Let it be through the unseen colors of a nebula,
A supernova in the shape of peace
Sparking, stretching across the horizon
Of doubt and changing the sun to the moon to the sun
songs becoming spectrums
And words becoming feasts
Where we all sit down TOGETHER
And our hearts become our manifesto
Sung to the repertoire of our being
And then maybe we would begin to grasp
That we all cry, we all love, we all dream
We have all stopped in the middle of the street
When we were children to look up
At a harvest moon as it watches over
Our neighborhood.
~ Heather Ann Schmidt
art by bree