Who We Are

for the men and women who "occupy" Wall Street in protest

By Don Foran

If I could play that Dvorák, YoYo Ma,
Excruciating sadness yoked to joy,
I’d play it for all children of this raw
And dangerous world, the ones who most annoy
The very rich. I’d hold each note an hour
And place my quaking finger on the fret
Until my sweat ran free and sour;
Till tears flowed too, both mine and ours. I’d let
The world know that music with its charm
Redeems, somehow, much pain and many long
Long hidden wrongs, assuages grief and harm,
And sounds, at last, a plaintive, hopeful song.
Thus are we saved. You stir new mindfulness
Of who we really are and whom we bless.

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