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The Stature of Truth

Watch them closely.
Your greater life depends on this.
See their bodies, watch their faces,
listen to their sound, which is
now the sound that we all own.

Now see your self, seeing them;
watch your self, watching them;
listen to your self, listening
to yourself. This is the moment
grace graces us. Our grace.

This shelf-stacker with
a battered face; this
village lady with a homely build;
this child, who, simply, sings
as if that could not be more natural:
see them; watch them; listen to the sound.

See them in profile: nobility
now shapes their face;
this is what heroes are,
heroes who await our call.

They have surrendered to their self;
was it we who called them?
Are there times when truth itself
is impatient of release; cannot wait
for us to earn that?

Perhaps just a few bars, as the song
begins to take them over,
sings, them; perhaps the climax of the song,
when all we can do is wildly clap,
applaud ourselves for what they’ve told us
that we always knew: we too, heroes,
heroines, waiting for the call
to be ourselves:

for a few bars, their stature
is beyond measure; remind yourself,
you saw it, watched them, listened:
listened to the sound which says
this, my sound, is the sound
that can do anything. anything:
now I make the world anew.

For a few bars, they tell us
this, this is who we are,
every one of us; this is
what talent’s given for; this,
what we were made for;
this is how great we are.

This is the sound of truth
singing the truth of truth itself;
this is what grace can do.
This is who we are.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
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