A Street Singer named Moses

He stands in front of a wall
leaning hard on crutches,
throwing out broken pieces of song.

The silence in between them is long.

Perhaps he forgets he is singing
or forgets the song,
absorbed in whatever he’s seeing.

He begins each time with a moan
and unlocks each phrase
as if sharing anew valued treasures.

More parts than found have gone missing.

Each outburst speaks clearly of pain,
of being cold
and standing crippled in rain,
but it isn’t complaint he’s about.

He is rejoicing.