The Pianist Is the Poet | Teen Ink

The Pianist Is the Poet

November 12, 2007
By Anonymous

The pianist is the poet, to put life into sound.
The dust is layered
across the once shining black piano, now a vanishing gleam against the
dusk sun. Like a battered heart, it lives on waiting for just a
single song. My hand hovers but my life's song exceeds the memory my
fingertips know. How to play a memory? And out of the darkness loving
hands outstretch over mine, long and gingerly guiding my hands to the
notes they know, to the notes they've lived.
The haunting beat is drumming through my head. The violins sing
across my heart. Now with steps, I wish to play out the notes, unable
to still my feet from their furtive dance. They are notes that have
passed before my eyes. Passion, fear, and depth are pulsing through
my arms.
Step. To and fro. Step. To and fro. Across the floor and into the
spaces of time, where my eyes see the dance of a lifetime, hauntingly
majestic and alluring. And still the piano sings to me, his hands
across my heart. The sway of loss and leap of love, the step of pain,
and movements of understanding. And there in the darkness, the piano
sings to me; playing my heart, thus releasing me of my gilded cage.
Like ripples in the deeper sea, my mind is a wave; my body it's crest.
I ride upon the deepest of blues, beneath a night of temperance,
peace, and also chaotic might.
In my mind, and upon the dance floor, the figures are fleeting.
Grasping my arm and guiding me forth. Both figures to hold this
frame, and others to knock me around. And there, in the darkness, a
caressing hand keeps me safe. Across my stomach, warm and soft, it
dips me back curving toward the ground. Complete trust in the grasp
around me, lifting and twirling me about. Through time and images,
both wondrous and frightening. Eyes shift in and out of the light,
whispers and gestures stretched through my time. My furtive movements
speed through my memories seemingly lost. Forward through time; dance
and sway; forward through my life; dance and sway. To the present, a
breathtaking and loving heart, lifting my hand and guiding me forth into the
unknown.


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