Friday, February 22, 2013

to adjust our music


the air feels of winter:
crocus and daffodil whisper of spring,

sleep calls to me to mirror
the bare elegance of a leafless tree, and wait to act,

while the bareness of the garden
pushes me to act to be ready for the next season,

rather like the way stores anticipate
the clothes soon to be needed,

winter forces us inside
where it’s easy for viruses 
to add their needs to our own,
almost as if to mock how we build
with how energetically they can take us down,

every person lives a life
as if each is an instrument with its own tune,
and, yet, we do not often play alone
where our flourishes and notes 
just have to cohere with each other,
instead every other also sounds what feels right for each,
and, as we add our sounds together, 
cacophony can cry out,

to be most successful in how we sound the world
we need to adjust our music to others,
to other people and to the grand rhythms
with which the world itself surrounds us,

sometimes we need the grace to yield and follow,
sometimes we need the audacity to wrench the music
into a rhythm we find true and new.

by Henry H. Walker 
February 18, ’13

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