Once upon a time
the sister of a church member
put on plays at the local group home,
where not everyone could read lines,
or stand still, or stand up at all,
but where, if you could be upright,
you were a tree; if you could crouch low,
you were a rock; and if you showed up
at the very hour of the show, well, then,
she found a place for you.
She wasn’t doing anyone
a favor. She just knew that
the pageant always needs
more players, more participants,
more trees who will burst into singing,
more rocks who will cry out
with a shout of delight,
making a noise more excited
than any yet heard from a rock
on this earth.
