Nothing fell that morning, no rain,
no mist, no snow, no color from
the January sky. No leaves from the trees.
But something was beginning – a tremor
from alleys and avenues, suburbs, projects,
and the furthest farms and forests.
A tremor made by the feet carrying the people,
by the heartbeats of thousands – and thousands
more none thought would come, but they came,
and made that vibration, pulled it up through
their souls, trembling their cities, their nation.
Their rising voices thundered out written, spoken
and sung words over rooftops, steeples, abandoned lots,
factories, houses, and streets. Thunder of the old,
of families with babies, people in wheelchairs, women,
and more women, and men who stood alongside.
I’m with her, and her, and her, read signs with arrows
pointing to the crowd, and I’m with her,
next to an image of a green and blue earth.
This thunder defied gravity, coming from ground,
to sound the sky, a soulful oneness rising like
the duende, from thundering soles. The sun
shone through a haze, brightening the city
for a moment, and held the thousands
of bright voices joining millions
all over the globe, holding all that day and night
holding even now, sky resounding with Earth’s tremors.

Susan Jefts hails from the southern Adirondacks and Vermont, and is an alum of the Bread Loaf Writers Conference and the Norton Island Writers Residency. She has been published in the anthologies A Slant of Light, Birchsong, Every Drop of Water, and in journals such as BlueStone Review, Blue Line Literary Magazine, Parnassus, Big City Lit, and others. She currently offers workshops using poetry as a way to explore life themes and our connection with nature. She writes the Poetry Corner Column for the Addison County Independent newspaper in Vermont, and is working on a full- length book of poetry.