To sing my Song

Poetry a hand holding up a violin and playing it in a blurred backdrop

I left my strings
deadened and silenced
grown stiff with disuse.
They grated and screeched if forced
or squeaked a little pitch.

Sometimes, in moments
when I forget myself,
a forgotten tune, I hear.
Beautiful yet plaintive
I wished to claim it for myself
But, it is beyond my little self.

Oh, how desperately I wanted
to sing my song
to ripple across the universe
with the rest of the chorus!
To be heard, to be seen, to be loved.

And so, on I grated and screeched
till I built a crescendo of suffering.
From it burst forth not a twang
of broken strings,
but an epiphany,
a crescendo of euphoria.

The heartfelt song
that took over my strings
from nowhere and everywhere
was a throbbing melody
of sweetened tears..


2 responses to “To sing my Song”

  1. The instrument is alive (in more ways than one) and have ambitions, just like the musicians – who play it. Beautiful, uplifting ending.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh…that’s a beautiful thought. I could work with this ❤ thanks…

      Liked by 1 person

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