I met Ms. Brooks just today
Her voice sounded so bright
Filled with pain, and hope, and life
showing darkness, not just the light

She sat me down and showed me her tools
They had all kinds of names.
Like "Volta" and "Cacophony"
Not a single one sounded the same

Then she showed me "kitchenette"
Hammered, filed, and whittled to be
it showed a world that stifled any thought
of Hope, or Want-- It startled me

I shook her hand and took her work
Filing it in my brain
Trying to remember all those words
So that the power remains