a voice inside the body

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There is a voice inside the body.

There is a voice and a music,

a throbbing, four-chambered pear

that wants to be heard, that sits 

alone by the river with its mandolin

and its torn coat, and sings

for whomever will listen

a song that no one wants to hear.

But sometimes, lost,

on his way to somewhere significant,

a man in a long coat, carrying

a briefcase, wanders into the forest.

He hears the voice and the mandolin, 

he sees the thrush and the dandelion,

and he feels the mist rise over the river.

And his life is never the same,

for having been lost –

for having strayed from the path of his routine,

for no good reason.

~ Michael Blumenthal

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