Your guitar is strumming.

But it is your face that is playing,
Make sounds that have meaning,
With words that just fast-pour,
Cannot be restrained,
Coming from a place,
Where the sun aches heartily to illuminate,
Where the moon, in desperation,
Even sends the light of day,
Comrades in attendance,
Ladies-in-Waiting,
Your needs attending,
Waiting to for you to exclaim,
I am easy, I am blessed, my name today is
Hallelujah.

Every part of your body sends impulses
And the guitar is lifted,
And a new day, new stories,
Dylan-like are being born,
You are the mother,
The single parent,
Raise them well.