I’m no hand me down Eve,
dressing my tongue in submission.
I can’t be me in another woman’s misery,
but I can sing harmony when another devil haunts my ribs.
If there’s a different drum, I’ve already played it,
a different shoe, I’ve already worn it.
Time is a smoke ring riding wind
until the clock chimes midnight.
I’m made of bone, grit, and song,
an open-eyed poem swimming every river.
Sometimes only poetry can say it. I think there's just this deeper language, and away of putting your world back together again and breaking through barriers. ~ Laura Nyro
When I write my music I see all the rivers flowing... sensual, spiritual, religious, animal, intellectual. ~ Laura Nyro
