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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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