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A man takes a bath in his tired apartment
Old enough to remember the deportations that never happened 
Hums a careless tune - a forbidden tune. He gasps
Did the neighbours hear him? Will they report him?
Should he report them first? He shakes his head
Several sleepless nights await
Waiting for the early morning pounding on the door
Just like the man down the corridor
Who never existed

A broken family sit round a worn table
The mother - the father
They call their daughter - dinner is ready
There are more interesting distractions in a child's mind than eating
Unless there is no food
She doesn't remember those long months
They thank the "frowned upon" God for this small mercy
The empty chair is their son's
They took him away
To fight an enemy they have no quarrel with
They know they've lost their son
Even if he returns he'll be someone else
Brutalised by friend and foe
They tap a forbidden tune on the table
Married long enough to trust each other
And stop before their daughter enters the room

Two men waiting for a tram
Going to their job
The same job they've always had
The same job they'll ever have
They see each other every day
Familiar strangers
One mumbles a forbidden tune and looks at the other
The other joins in and smiles

The party member philosophised
Good opportunities and a good life
Relatively speaking
He just had to deny God
As all party members must
If God is good but God is banned, where is the good?
It's a long time since he's seen good
If God is love but God is hated, where is love?
Or what is it?
And if God is great but God doesn't exist, what is great?
The party is great - so we're told
But who believes that anymore?
Really believes it? Truly believes it?
He leaves his house - the party's house - and walks to God's church
For the first time since his youth
And sings a forbidden tune

A crowd gathers at the square
They know the forbidden tune
The secret policemen
In plain clothes, but in plain sight
Watching the crowd watching them watching the crowd
Free speech?
The masters have loosened their chains
Do they trust them? 
History, often rewritten, has taught them otherwise
And yet one starts, then another and another
There's no safety in numbers
But they all sing the forbidden tune
And march
And disband
And march another day

The arena, the festival, forbidden songs
Hymns that were outlawed and tunes that were wrong
Three hundred thou gathered, a quarter of all
The people were singing. Their nation. Their call

To fight against might do they need David's sling?
Or fight without bloodshed, the forbidden they sing?
How long does it take to break Jericho's walls?
Just over four years for them to stand tall

A man in a bathtub sounds tuneless I know
Two men at a tram stop - discordant tempo
A crowd on the square - low noisy base dirges
But a nation reborn? Concealed beauty emerges







Based very loosely on the "Singing Revolution" that freed Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia from the Soviet Union.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Singing_Revolution

Entry for "how long can a poetry go" contest - writer's statement in "poem notes" section above - judged 18th January 2017

Written 30th December 2016
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