Through the fog
shadows are lifting,
grey matter turns blue.
Awareness heightened, unafraid,
gathering.
Through the fog
dismissed and dispersed,
something hitherto unknown,
attracts.
The silent harvest of conversation,
gathering.
Through the fog, a voice is heard
stalled murmur, suppressed too long.
A crush of longing, overdue,
gathering.
A buzz of words
untangled whispering of woes.
The pick, pick, pick of the scab.
Exposed. Undefeated.
Gathering.
The new dawn
of the voice,
a clamouring din, a sufferance lost.
Our future. A nation strong.
Gathering.