I see a ship gliding through the night
Its passengers transfixed and muted
Each lost in his fears
Separate in thought
Separate in doubt
Where? Why? How long? And then
Maybe?...

I see the people gliding through the year
Isolated, transfixed and muted
Each lost in her fears
Separate in loss
Separate in doubt
Where? Why? How long? And then
Maybe?...

I see a banner, carrier of hopes
Oddly conceived, oddly constructed:
Whoever thought these shapes might align?
Yet they can, did and will.
Odd, and aggrieved, straining apart and yet
In my dream they rejoin.

Out of many places, a song arises.
One voice, then two, then many more.
And more, they tremble
Then stumble into a kind of harmony
Into a mighty chorale.
E Pluribus Unum.
The many are one.

Eve J. Alfillé 2021