Only dead men are free and it is our fear that keeps us chained. April fifth was a Sunday and it has no siblings. There is no twin. This one stands alone in time and shall forever be marked by the words and the background music and the river up and down. Not even the lights were on for this trip. There was no howling. Only tears shed for the humanity and poetry and the delivery of the message. Listen with both ears and lie down in the canoe for it shall take you to the mirror and the spirits beyond. Cedar boughs. A tiny framed picture. He who talks loud say nothing. Nobody.