We are urged by some
to believe that our history
is not our destiny,
but the millions of ghosts
inside me
beg to differ.
The ones
trying to convince me
don’t like to admit to
believing in ghosts,
although I can see the ghosts
behind their fat happy faces
hoping like hell
that we buy
what they’re trying to sell.
Never mind them.
I know a dance, an old dance,
I’m willing to try –
something designed
to turn the world
upside down.
I’ve got a shirt, an old shirt,
I’m willing to wear –
something designed
for the big dance
and the afterparty.
I know a song, an old song
I’m ready to sing –
something written
just for the occasion,
a keening joyful sound,
and a chorus inside
millions and millions strong
singing of history
as prelude to destiny. Stop
believing what the liars say.
History knows
our ghosts
are more honest
than theirs.
