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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.