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Posts Tagged ‘music’

For Now

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2025| Leave a Comment »


 
 
Driving home from the movie,
our blood still charged with adrenaline,
my daughter and I move through
the dark just under the speed limit,
our eyes trained on the red taillights
in front of us, and we talk about plot holes
and how we would change the ending.
Neither of us would have chosen happily
ever after, which somehow felt false  
to the greater story. It’s not long before
we’re singing along to her favorite song.
I harmonize on the chorus, and
a “Peaceful Easy Feeling” grows in me
as we drive through pouring rain.
I may not believe in happily ever after,
but I do believe in content for now,
as in this moment when she reaches
for my hand and I slide mine into hers.
I can’t see her face in the dark, but
in her voice, I can hear it, her smile.

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In Second Grade

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on March 30, 2025| 2 Comments »


 
 
I wanted that plastic recorder.
Wanted it so much that when mom
suggested I could earn that two dollars
by defrosting the freezer, I sat
on the black-and-white tiled kitchen floor
with a blow drier on high. For hours.
Sat there watching each drip.
Sat there longer, perhaps,
than the cumulative time I played
my recorder, but I tell you,
I cherished that brown plastic tube.
Every “Hot Cross Buns” I played
was an anthem to self-determination.
Almost fifty years later I don’t remember
what I read yesterday, but I remember
one a penny, two a penny.
I remember the drip, drip, drip of the frost.
I remember my mom saying,
No, not yet. Keep going.
I remember my lips on the mouthpiece,
the flesh of my fingertips
pressed on the holes,
the shrill music filling the kitchen.

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One Evening

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on March 20, 2025| 4 Comments »

listening to cello
the smile of wanting
nothing but this

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Stage 4

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on January 29, 2025| 6 Comments »


                  for K
 
Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell. As you ring, what batters you becomes your strength.
                  —Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. J. Macy and A. Barrows, “Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29”
 
 
Oh friend, as life batters you,
again, you make music—
not the music you’ve practiced,
not the gentle strains of hope
you longed to share,
but a naked ringing.
Oh, how you teach me.
There is so much goodness
in fear when it is shared truly—
not the innocence of a lullaby,
but the brutal shine of a gong.
How essential and urgent it is,
your song, my bell.
You change my ideas of what
it means to be strong—
not that we don’t get battered,
but that we let ourselves feel
and meet such moments
unrelentingly, beautifully real.
 

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One Listening

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , on December 4, 2024| 3 Comments »

                  —for e.s.r.
 
 
I slip inside her voice
as if into the clearest spring—
even my heartache is sparkling

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One Driving to the Airport at 4 a.m.

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on October 9, 2024| 2 Comments »



the empty highway
stretches through the dark—
a music staff with one long note

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The Night the Piano Fell Apart

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on August 23, 2024| 8 Comments »


 
listening to Trio Duende play Allegro con Brio, from Piano Trio 1 in B Major
 
 
Once, on a rainy night, I sat in the home
of a family I did not know and listened
to a trio playing Brahms. Though
it is only hours later, I unwrap
the memory as if it is tied with silk ribbons
and wrapped in gold tissue—something
precious as a time-smoothed stone
on the banks of a slender river. Unlike
a museum piece, this memory wants
to be opened, to be held, to be touched,
to be cradled by bare hands. Wants
my finger prints all over it—
the memory of how beauty swells in us
 
and then breaks us, breaks us
the way the piano itself broke apart tonight—
the pedal rods clattering to the ground
mid-movement. Beauty bids us play on
as the pianist did tonight. Play on.
Though broken. Though we know
the work eventually ends in a minor key.
Play on, as if we trust the line of beauty
will not be broken. No matter how intense
it gets. Even if the world explodes.

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Hallelujah

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on August 18, 2024| 3 Comments »


 
 
after singing in the stadium
with fifty thousand other voices
emerging into the night
to find my own ecstatic
silence

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While Hiking on Lizard Head Pass

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on June 23, 2024| 15 Comments »


 
I forgot, today, to be sad.
Perhaps, more truly,
the song of the hermit thrush
ringing through the alpine meadow
gathered me into its echoing
and lifted me out of myself
and landed me fully in the field
where the green corn lilies
reached up to my waist.
While listening to the thrush,
I forgot how things fall apart,
held as I was by the long
whistled song, haunting and rich,
flute-like and clear as it pealed
through the spruce, honest
as any church bell, urgent
as a gong, holy as a woman
set free by a song.

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There Is This Moment

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on June 20, 2024| 12 Comments »


 
 
with the full moon rising
and a large bird of prey
gliding spirals in the sky
and my husband on my right
my sweet friend on my left
and the two-person band
transforming sorrow into joy
just by singing it in harmony
and giving the song their everything,
and maybe that’s what is ours to do—
to give ourselves wholly to a moment
as if we are the singers and life the song,
so I give myself to the low summer sun
and the dust on my feet,
to the pucker of lime
and the tears of my friend,
give myself to the ache that never leaves
and the relentless beauty that ever arrives,
and the more I give myself to the world,
the more the world rushes in
and says home, home, home,
you are home.
 

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