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Multi-Singular Oscillating Lines |
The line of a woman’s neck, bent
over a cello, bowing, candlelight,
shadows cast by her nose, lips,
cheekbone, hands shiny with lotion
recently applied, Bach—a demonstration
of what God placed in all of us.
Think of her patience when at practice:
hours spent fine tuning the angle
of the bow, the pressure placed on the strings,
the ache of muscles in her back held straight
and how the afternoon sun through the window
forces her into the shadows to protect
the wood of her cello.
On a walk through the park, through
the forest preserve outside of the city,
she seeks out the birds, their songs,
the primitive shrieks of the flock
as the birds chase her away from their nests.
She does it for a reason. She searches
the celestial city of music for an old word
that speaks what she wants to hear:
her wrist draws the bow over the strings,
an infinity of chords, vibrations,
the courage of primal sounds she wishes
to translate into voice.
The line of a woman’s neck, bent
in the candlelight, shadows cascade
across her face, Bach—the notes of her cello
rip into the world and penetrate our ears,
our skin, bind our bones to the percussive hum
that emanates from the lasting resonance
of God’s first word.
copyright 2009
Kenneth
Gurney |
