In the Midst of the Music

April 16, 2008
By Kristina Miller, Dallas, TX

He sings me something
Soft, sad, and delicate.

And as the first haunting notes
begin to play,
the arms of the melody
Gently sway my uncertain soul,
Until every imperfection is in tune
with his piercing spirit song.

And I will dream up my own lyrics
to match the wispy silhouettes
unraveling before my weary eyes.

And in the midst of the music,
Bare feet stained with dirt and sin
glide silently across the polished stage.
Effortlessly, my body twists and bends
To the aching melody that fills me.

And in every note I hear a symphony,
The rise and fall of a single chord
but a moment in the scope of the song.

And eventually the music will
fade into the background,
and I’ll be left alone with a single note,
one last breathless pause
to strike a final pose.

And soon even that note,
Timid and liquid,
Will fade into the silence.

And the music will end

And it will be as though
He never sang,

and I never danced.

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