There Was a Song

There was a song we sang, in the quiet and the dark, when our hope was—well, back then, it seemed the hope of fools—and we sang it in whispers so they wouldn’t hear. I can feel the song in my heart at times, when memories blossom in the darkness of the night. That was the sound you heard, my whispering chant, for I was sleepless. The sound of my soul, I shouldn’t wonder, calling out to comrades long gone. Sometimes, when I am done singing, I think I hear an echo, like another voice lost in the night.