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Otherwise, enter the password emailed to to you, to read and listen to a recording of the following poem, We Know Nothing by Jade Jackson.
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We say we hear the wind,
kissing, smothering, howling;
It’s not.
It’s paper rustling in a breeze,
leaves gossiping in between.
It’s tree-trunks moaning
and sheets of metal shivering in the night.
Every branch throw’s it’s arms haphazardly
towards blue cloudless skies.
No one question’s it’s motives
fewer mock its design.
We think we know everything,
more importantly, that we’re right.
Yet it’s abundantly clear, we know little,
we’re mocked behind closed doors.
We know nothing,
and all we do know
is wrong.
-Jade Jackson
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