I have visited sacred places,
knelt before gods,
whispered, prayed—
for peace in my heart,
for peace in this world.
I wander beneath green trees,
birds singing among leaves.
I imagine poets before me implore:
Each poet is a bird—sing, just sing!
But I fear I am no nightingale,
no thrush, no lark.
Still, a song stirs in my heart.
Still, I want to chant—
for the joy of being a poet,
for the peace, the power,
the strength of each word.
So now I drum with all my soul,
answering the woodpecker’s call.
Let the wind carry the rhythm far—
to another forest, another heart.
Let someone pause,
listening—not knowing why—
and feel a stillness take root,
a single note
trembling… trembling …trembling into harmony.
