Tag: music

poetry

missed beat

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missed beat

we have been so restrained
so quiet and solitary
conscientious and clean

that walking into the high school
with open faces feels like a dare
like living wild

and when the band begins bouncing to the beat
striking their drums and marimbas
with the pent-up energy we’ve all kept tamped down

and – even crazier – we all start emptying our lungs
with long loud indoor cheers
for everything –
the proficient kids
our survival
the back-tingling joy of having hope for a moment
the crash of noise we can finally sink our fear inside

we sense we’ve arrived
at a new kind of fearlessness

for all these reasons
we salute you, Warriors –
you’ve put a beat
back in our chests

poetry

Offering to the Air

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Offering to the Air

all day Irish trad followed me
each time I started the car
Spotify announced the day
and who I am
and what it means

but when Willie Clancy played
Air: An Páistín Fionn
I recognized myself:
ashes, flame, keening, awe
and, sometimes, harmony

I think how Alex would say
play this at my funeral
but that’ll be too late –

play it today
and I won’t need to make
another pen stroke tonight

poetry

Feeling Grateful

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Feeling Grateful

at the spring band concert
it’s not like fall

yes, we are the same people
lined up in the same hallway
to watch the same kids
play the same instruments
in the same black and white clothes
but we’re not the same

the talk is of the fire
where were you?
how are you?
where are you living now?
and the undercurrent in every conversation is
I’m so glad you’re still alive
your kid is still alive
we’re still alive

not all the instruments are the same
not all the black and white clothes made it
but we all did
we’re all still alive and here to listen
to the sixth graders labor through Lean on Me
and the Jazz Band absolutely kill it
playing Feeling Good

poetry

disappearing act

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disappearing act

my favorite part of the concert
is when the house lights dim
my body melts into the seats
and my form becomes invisible presence
I’m there and transported
a silent witness
until my hands are invited
to beat the air into wild approval
percussive acknowledgement
of what the souls on stage have wrought
that we are here together
in this moment in this place
in this desire to see and be seen
to make something new
and be part of the making

poetry

first didgeridoo

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first didgeridoo

vibrations:
waves ripple atom to atom
neuron to neuron
my ear like a drum
throat like a flute
and there is the possibility
that the right song will
shepherd all my energies
into ideal alignment
every water molecule
that gives me shape
attuned to some higher frequency
that at last relaxes
the rigid lump that I am
into multi-layered harmonies

poetry

33 rpm

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33 rpm

the arm hovers
ready to stroke vinyl into notes
the disk shivers to life
and a warm crackling static
prepares our wandering ears
to hear longing pressed into spiral
alongside the joy of sounding one’s cords
in the key that unlocks tears