Sing a song that all folks know
Sing a song with soul, real slow
Sing songs of triumph and pain
Sing a song and feel the hard rain

Songs of life's injustices and wrongs
Songs of protests, wars, and gongs
Songs of love and life and peace
Songs of captivity's sweet release

Sing a song that all folks know
Sing a song with soul, real slow
Sing songs of triumph and pain
Sing a song and feel the hard rain

For folks like you and folks like me
For folks who need open eyes to see
For folks who feel a tortured soul
For folks whose lives are at a lull

Sing a song that all folks know
Sing a song with soul, real slow
Sing songs of triumph and pain
Sing a song and feel the hard rain

God are you among
streams that filter through
drapes of rituals
adorning  halls
of sacred buildings?

God are you lingering
in faded ink
on pages transcribed
by scribes who claim to transmit
your wisdom?

God are you hidden
amid the din
designed to cover
the answers sought?

God are you present?

I read once that
people who can’t
sleep are either
in love or lonely.
And some nights
I can’t tell the
difference
between the two.
Feelings only
become real
after 2 am,
While everyone
sleeps and I
lie awake
trying to hush
the swirl
of churning
thoughts and
memories that
still linger.
when the only
solace is sleep,
I find my peace
in the daylight,
the drinks, and
the medications
that make the
memories stop
showing inside my
skull and help
the darkness
drift In with ease.