by David Seigel Bernstein
It floats in my mind, but it isn’t mine.
Over time, it grows from solo to choir.
And I learn the song of my people.
Rising from the chorus
comes dolce refrain
coaxing me into the light.
From primal crescendo,
measure for measure
I dig, bite, and slice my way out.
I feel my mother’s pride.
She is my guide.
I know it is the way of things.
Then for the first time, I hear sound, not thought.
It is a shriek. It is cacophony.
It is the noise of things.
I fall to the earth, enclosed in warm fluid.
A soft dying voice tells me I have done well.
I am a good son.
I see light. Moonlight.
I bare my fangs and howl for the first time.
It is the way I sing of things.
BIO: To support his writing addiction and excessively extravagant lifestyle, David Siegel Bernstein consults as a forensic statistician. He has been published in numerous print, podcast, and online magazines. He also serves on the board of directors for the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference, he leads the Words-in-Progress writers group, and his monthly article Science for Fiction (S4F) is a featured column in Abandoned Towers Magazine.