I Hear America Singing-2015 Redux
Credit due to Walt Whitman for writing the original. My brother needed a rewrite of the poem, so I wrote it for him. Never actually turned it in, though. Enjoy!
I hear America singing, the varied “carols” I hear,
The teenage trill of dreams desired and inevitably deferred due to collapse,
The adult chanting for more than is possible from those unfortunate souls,
The child whistling home, the melody cut short by a bullet,
The woman, crooning a tune that could equal a man’s but is looked at as inferior,
The caged bird chirping a song of things longed for,
The immigrant’s groan, the workers’ exhausted ensemble, the battle hymn of the hurt
The harmonizations of those who are “free” and fight those who are “brave”
A machine mouthing the mumblings of actual man,
The people persistently purring at the sight of complacency, comfort, and lack of ambition.
Each singing for what troubles and belongs to humanity,
Just as death longs for life, knowing that it is an impossible want.
The beats of their individual ballads becoming a beaten, weakened banner,
Whimpering quietly with their weathered wails desperate for consideration.