Lakeisha Davis

Hidden below-ground roots may grow
Yet dreams of creativity sow.
The 100-year-old building of dreams
Settled easily above fragile stems.
A euphonium rests among its friends
Bows in prayer to make amends.
 
She asks for forgiveness
For the water flows and grows in mass.
Their time is coming to an end
Yet the euphonium makes a simple wish
Calls in a favor among the dead:
 
“Let us sing our final song,
So the gods have mercy on us
As rust may take our body
invading this place we belong.”
 
She gathers her fellow brass sisters.
She gathers those who will face the disaster.
She gathers those who will listen.
 
From the bottom of their soul
They scream a melodious tune
 
To be heard among the waves for mercy.