For two days I rested, exhausted in body and mind. It was the kind of awkward silence felt by a stranger before the curtain rises; planning my own recording session. When I sing and sing and then fall in tiredness.
I fall descending into the ocean, like the plucking of the cello, like leaves on a breeze. Falling among the trees. Some of the strings of the baby grand have all been cut by garden shears and wire cutters. Now I walk a different path, fly me above all I've chosen. Show the future to me. Show me where this is leading
The baby sitting in the living room, a red stemmed glass. In it I caught sight of my face, I lean into the ripples of sugar. Glass after glass, I know all the pain can be fixed, I just need a few new strings. I whisper “I couldn't have done it without you.”
Here I am, a million miles a way; Me the only one listening, the only one speaking is me, writing on my bed. My bare feet, free, bend at the knees and sway in the air. The silent baby grand leads to tunes on the laptop. My finger tips choose the letters I need to bring my voice back to life.
I catch my voice. Catch it while it runs in the other direction. It's relearning the notes, from childhood, from my early 20's. It hearing old patterns and starting new ones.
The baby grand sitting in the living, the glasses of wine. Now I make decisions. By myself, that I regularly wouldn't be able to make, by myself. I do it, by writing. By dreaming, By myself.
For two weeks I look for the monster that cut my strings, that created the silence, that took me to the dance but held my ears with his hands, and said “I couldn't have made it to the dance without you.”
I couldn't have done it without you but I could have done so much more.
Rise me high above the ocean, Rise me high above the trees, Take me up above the paths I've chosen.
Show my future to me. Tonight I caught one last high note, fell to the ground, and stood back up again.