So when we get to the measure
in the Hungarian folksong
where a man begs a boatman
to carry him across the sea
where his lover is waiting,
we decide as a group to sing it hushed,
hushed but urgent, says Jenny,
and we all agree, though when we get
to the phrase, we all forget the hush
and collectively belt out his longing
like a celebration, urgent and vital,
of all the longing that rings the world,
all the ways we yearn to connect, to love,
to stand beneath the window
of the one we adore and say
here, I am here.