For Emily Dickinson, one of the singers.
        And for all who those fleeing on those ancient migration
        trails north, for home.

Someone sang for me and no one else could hear it
When I had given up and made knife marks on my arm
Or drank and gave myself away or was given

Someone sang for me and no one else could hear it
When demons came with rope and cages
To take my children from me and imprison us

Someone sang for me and no one else could hear it
Now I am here in the timeless room of lost poetry
Gathering up the destroyed and forgotten
Because of the songs someone sang that no one else could hear

But me.