For the Nightingales
in an age of antecedent attention
adoration for the weak
penchant for the at ease
you arise
you walk with grace
across burning coals
craving to feel the heat
vehement with rhetoric meetings
banished to breathe
the defiance of the devil
the here and the now
into our ashes
you sing
to all us suffering nightingales
as we nurse from your teat
sliced through our banished wounds
slit up amid the fear
curling into every empty cavity
lost in (the) spaces {of our mind}
one virtuous note at a time
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