Prayer for an Uprising

Most of the time, we don't know 
the extent of what we can do until 
we do it. Until the hair wound around 
the throat of the instrument tightens 
and has no recourse but to break, 
until the sentries open the metal 
gates themselves to let in the rioting 
crowd. Someone says look at the trees
now afire with the songs of omen birds—
look at the light that slants across
house roofs and knights them as
cathedrals. Water and salt, rock
and clay— these are the things
that made us. We were there 
at the beginning and we will
be there until the end.