Gita
Gita opening you’re blind or someone is and you are singing a battle an old one or maybe one about to be fought for peace there are horns honking trees broken an exhausted winter light this can’t be good but the song is the meter formal compelling the names of the principals clanging a challenge the noise tears at the heart I have to stop stop here in the middle of the mess I can’t even hear myself think O, Daughters of Buffalo, on the left on the right you have been my friends my teachers my sisters I am confused, dark-hearted, infinitely tired of fighting and I won’t fight you bring all your reason to bear if you must but reason explodes on the plains of battle only the song holds shape keeps me from deserting S. Robbins
Sherry Robbins 