First-born son,
Here, embrace for all:
Rappers, Negroes
Singers, dancers, jazz,
Slammed, spinners, preach
Lyrically estranged
Family, cooled to the touch
Let it go
Let it go

Poetry tells us why
Animals are sworded,
For they are sordid
And we live on

inside and carry
our weights as one

I remember, –

We are safe
As long as we hear the thunder
Thunder will come

All the tighter
And ever much softer
I hold.

I have for you some words
Of thought, our people here
Bubble and may drown
as they listen
To you and yours

The common loop
Remember the weave
Tied together at the root
There, the blood and leaves
Bind us to you.



Copyright © 2009 by Ivan Lett