And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider—…
…the signals we give–yes or no, or maybe–
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.
—- Excerpt from William Stafford’s poem, A Ritual To Read To Each Other
Here we are again
in the dark.
The farmhouse is gone
We stay in the barn
as our numbers dwindle
and I sing songs
the songs I can remember
when I get scared, again,
at how much darkness is out there
and how few we are.