Whitman Inspired- Song of Me

February 18, 2009
By Megan Bonini SILVER, Cincinnati, Ohio
Megan Bonini SILVER, Cincinnati, Ohio
8 articles 3 photos 0 comments

Pensive, adept, breathing, speaking, noticing, very human and flawed,
Without sight, but with observation.
No less feeling than felt and perceived.

Helpful more by to the ones who hide their need, but require it none the less.
Helpful with my own necessity for aid, I ask whole hearted with my eyes.

With my parted lips I sing a calling, a melody, a cry
To open the ears and brains of generations of mice (That I may call man)
With this song, I travel time and space, believing in the concepts newly reborn,

To hear the Revolution, and the firing tongues, the last gasps for freedom.

Connected We are through essence,
I am as much you, as myself, and no more another.
A painted man, a plain woman, red, white or blue, all colors of skin
Not the colors of the core
Our voice combined, harmonized, leading, sirens, we are addictive

As a crowd, as a sea, a single body of many, pulsating throbbing full of lusts.

I walk through those waves, lulling, straight out.

Lapping, sinking, gurgling, splashing
The insignificant grains beneath my feet, tiresome and wavering,

I lap, sink, gurgle, splash on through, each grain carrying a part of our load.
Standing, walking, running, stumbling and getting up again after a padded fall.

Thanks to insignificance, triviality, translucent, the unseen

(unknowingly dependent, unknowingly not carrying my own weight)
Thanks to their frictiony voices, sounds, movements
Thanks to amalgamation, incorporation, connections, and the larger soul, because your weight is
carried with my own.
Thanks to the song, the eyes, a tear to well up and pour sorrow from the heart,

To keep the body from imploding into itself, and retreating from the world.

Is there a larger meaning to living in this world, existing as a single ant in infinity?
To breath, to yell, to touch and feel, to contribute, to share a world with you, to watch
I exist for these.

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