Singing

When Malia sings,

it’s like stones dropping into a deep pool

or skipping across the surface,

but more than that;

her voice has so much light,

a voice that understands

the language of the trees,

the language of her family,

and even me who has trouble

saying anything at all.

I listen to the words fill the gym,

amazed at the beautiful quiet

of “Time After Time,”

and I feel like she’s singing the song to me.

Then I remember

her parents sitting in the front row,

and I wonder

if a mountain of trouble

is about to fall

on our heads.