Unison

Unison

It’s a sort of sorcery, isn’t it,
untimely spells cast across the imagination
that subtract joy
from the souls of the innocent.
They make jazz feel like the ultimate
sin.
But their incantations contain nothing
but vacuous screeds disguised as melody.
Their long-form compositions only
repeat
hearsay
they say they learned online.

Most of us recognize the serenade
when we hear it. It sounds like manna,
it sounds like New Orleans and
powwows. It sounds like romance
and winding trails across the seaside dunes.

Only the still heart can read the music.
Only the graced embrace the truth that
that flies from heaven but takes root in
the deepest soil of earth.

It’s the pinnacle of reality with no
invocations needed. I hear the first two notes
and know,
if we will listen,
we can sing the rest together/
unison.