Voices Rising

More about Voices Rising

Weary, they sit around the fire,
months clinging like ash in the rain.
The song leader—thin arms raised—
lets the first notes break.
Cautious. Wavering.
This is the moment.
Put down what you’re holding.
Let it fall—
the weight of too much gone.
Woodpecker taps—sharp staccato—
and the chords swell,
beginning to harmonize.
Eyes lift.
Gazes meet.
People who hadn’t dared for months
now hold one another.

She talks of old movements,
songs carved from protest,
from vigils and marches
and nights of sleeping on cold capital steps.
She leads them in We Rise,
and the flames echo back—
yes, yes.
In every heart,
a story waits to bloom.
Each one here,
a thread in something larger—
the laughter of strangers
now somehow familiar,
shared like bread.
Their arms link.
The fire reflects in their eyes.
And what was despair
becomes something else.

Maybe they can.
Maybe not.
Still—they sing.
And the song travels—
on the backs of the wind,
through the branches,
across the miles.
It will find others.
Change will come.
Not because they waited.
Not because they wished.
But because they sang—
and the tune caught flame.


For the community sing movements—
where harmony becomes change.