song of the disinherited

yes
i would like to tune my voice so as to speak with a song
but my lips can't form the text in such a way
as to bring truth to the fore
for my throat reverberates with an agony of images not my own

theirs must be spoke  with a tinge of pathos
with a stroke of conviction
so that we'd hear the truth within
not our ears but our guts
in the heart of ourselves
as a word forgotten
a sound turning us toward them
as if they were ourselves
someone important
someone humane
someone to care for

that's what i'd like to issue from my mouth
such a sense of guilt
as to move us to act for once
with conviction and not money alone
with money but with love as well

so
bear with me
as i make low grunts and moans
so as to disturb
so as to perfect the sounds of caring
so as to carry the tones that stir to action
holding to a center rich in silence
silence to hear the voices rising from despair
hoping for someone like you to come along
and join them in their song