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The beautiful sound of other people breathing.

Community.

The bedroom: His wife. His child.

The chapel: The old man. The widowed woman.

The bus: Tired husbands. Lonely brides.

The playground: Pants. Screams. Screeches. Cries.

The everywhere: Fear.

Suffering has a sound.

Heard like a rattle.

Beads dropping one by one.

A xylophone. A harpsichord. A tambourine.

A one-man-band.

In union a sweet ave.

Isolated a crashing cymbal.

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—Howard Hain

(May/2018)