Riddles in the Dark

So he sang
And had each chord
Sound and string
Into what was Music
To Your Ears.
He sang and they all
Sang with him.
Despite the throne,
He would sit on the ferny floor,
Where insects would crawl,
Where trees stood firm,
Where mountains were rooted.
And his voice would
Defy gravity
And it would reach You.
And so You Heard.

I know no psalms.
I have no harp.
I suffer
From stage fright.
I have famously fumbled,
Stumbled and stumped
Over what I knew
But have now somewhat forgotten.
What is this secret Chord?
I heard It too – and It
Shook me.
My silences and shadows
Surrendered.
And I would find solace
That I did not even seek.

I seek it now.
What part do I play –
I just keep missing the cue.
I stand here
Now – stiff, awkward, unnecessary,
A prop catching
No attention.
I am afraid, I say, afraid.
And now, quiet,
Miming with the same shadows
That deepen and darken
Till I see, hear, feel,
Nothing.

How much darkness
Does one need to see
Light again.
How much silence
Do I need to hear
That Music again.
It’s all a clatter now.
Empty tin cans and glass bottles and paper cups
Chatting and shouting and scuffling
Together, at the same time,
Together, in the dark.

Should I go and seek
Now a lab, a studio,
Or a kitchen
Where I can find even a sliver
Of that Chord?
Could I steal It and keep It
As my own?
Or will You chop my fingers?
Take my hand – I am afraid – Take my hand.

It’s so dark and noisy.
I know not where to turn.
How much could the blind and deaf do?
Dare I scream?
Who will hear me – I cannot hear myself.
Take my hand,
Lead me, too – and I will run.

10 January 2009