Read more from the Being Truly Human October 1991 Newsletter
By Jehanne Mehta
I am not any thing you give a name to, There is nothing I am bound to do; I stand within the circle of my freedom; There is nowhere I am bound to go;
But if you should wish to circumscribe me, Bend your thinking round into an O, Stretching the finest skin across it, Tightened like the drawn string on a bow.
I am nothing but an instrument of hearing, A membrane, taut as ever any drum, All senses fused together to make one.
Strike me with your name and with your beauty; Vibrating with your pain and with your love, I shall pierce the very stars with song.
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