To sing out sometimes

Everyone needs to sing out sometimes

out of their stillness

madly as mountains;

wildly as rainstorms, spilling their contents

into the chance of the wind;


strange as the funfair’s

coloured grimaces

like faces lit by bonfires;

solo and only

as a valley-trapped lake.


Yesterday cut me.

Tomorrow won’t own me.

In the rich glitter of cities I am lost,

and the roaring machine

never goes to sleep.


Everyone needs to sing out always

not upon platforms

but down the dark tunnels, the echoing alleys,

over the water,

at the end of the causeway.


Out of their oneness

curses or praises –

Everyone needs to sing and shout,

As dawning birds etch sharp noises

To bring themselves back out of night.



© Adrian Campbell 1970