The Pianist Poem by Bernard Jess Sagpang

The wind blew cold and somber
Sent shivers to his cold heart
Deafening doubts encumbered
Inside his soul to sing out
Songs of his past down plundered

It was autumn on the woods
When leaves fainted like his hair
Yielding to decrepitude
He sat on the Piano’s chair
Understanding solitude

His eyes closed; whispered prayers
Fingers caressed the white keys
Sang a melody within
But could not find any word
The piano… still in silence

And for an hour he remained
Knocking at his heart’s closed door
His eyes closed, slowly slumbered
Head over heels on the floor
When his song he remembered

As every line came anew
In his heart he found release
When teardrops fell in the “do”
He found completion, his piece
His very best at the piano.