Free verse has no melody
And shares no common art
But embodied soul and music
Can carry song at heart
For every touch of inkwell
And a joyous choir's note
Lives a child with no mentor
And holds the knife to throat
I am of the strong ones
I speak with words alone
My only words of wisdom
Are ones I claim my own
For every singing nightingale
Comes another with no voice
And every quiet poet
Another makes the choice
To live with knife instead of pen
And guns instead of voice
I speak my heedful sayings
To all who share remorse

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