- Aaron Jurist
Singular Voices
In the schoolhouse
the rain keeps falling outside,
and only the voice
of a once sane lunatic inside
fall on many deaf ears.
When numbers in chairs
are just eyes on mouthless faces,
and everyone seems to talk
to their illuminated screen.
How can we matter
if we’re not around.
The isolated voice shouts.
It commands and demands
attention across a digital sea
to eyes far away.
Does it even remember a time before the rain? When friends are divided
and 6 feet apart feels like 6 miles.
When the voice of knowledge
is condemned to grant wisdom
to squares rather than flesh.
How can we matter
if we’re not around.