Jessica Harris

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Musical Silence

Black against white.
No sound no motion.
Silently I sit in front of the piano,
My fingers yearning to dance atop the keys.
The music inside me is waiting, waiting.
Finally, slowly, gracefully I reach
My hand out to meet its love.
The keys are like cool glass against my fingertips.
Steady and calm they begin their dance.
Down to the deep depths of the lower keys
And up to the sweet flying tones of the higher ones
Do my fingers travel.
This sound does pour itself into me
And the notes become my breath,
The rhythm leads my heart.
New melodies and musical ideas
That were initiated in my head
Now pulse through the ends of my fingers.
The union of these two things-
One living and one essentially dead-
And the sound that is created by their meeting
Is a wondrous thing.
With the piano before me
The hands of time cannot grasp me
Or convince me to pay them attention.
But, soon I must move away
Despite this intense affair
That is so glorious.
Solemnly, I draw my fingers back
And the music somewhat fades from my being.
But much of it is still there
And waits to be freed
And brought to life once again.

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