If there are no more songs, 
will I have you? 
Will you listen to my story if my voice is hoarse; 
will you hold my body
when the smell of blood and smoke is still clinging? 

If there are no more melodies, 
no words for what we’ve seen,
will you hold me in the snow
until  sunrise, or until we fall asleep? 

This is the song I hum on the wind, 
and I pray that someone is listening…
remember us who sing no songs, 
tell our stories, even after your victory. 

By Heidi Turner