Bath Fixtures and Beethoven

Standard

IMG_2103

I’ve been holding back,
carelessly squandering my verve
in a desire to pass,
repressing urges to scribble lines
or take photographs
when a minister hands a jeaned child
a purple iris
and the wisp girl grips it tightly,
petals forming fireworks
above her silk and sand waterfall
of perfectly trimmed bangs.

I didn’t dance in the aisle at Home Depot
Friday morning
when Slung-lo started playing.
SLUNG-LO!,
in Home Depot,
like a pretty message from the gods,
and I tried to pretend like it wasn’t,
and that my heart was not cliff diving
in ecstasy
over one of my happy songs
raining down from rafters
as I assessed a display of shower heads.
I failed to drop my shoulders,
allow my head to shake free,
transform to flow and bliss.

I tried not to show
any of the watching world
the depth of the gash
on my spirit last Thursday,
a veritable internal hemorrhage,
hiding instead behind a poem
about a man
being more than his bland façade
might suggest.
Anemic offerings
when I should have splattered
the room with blood,
let loose my murderous thumbs
on words that cut and skewered,
plumbed pain,
making it both singular and universal.

Beethoven fearlessly
wandered around muttering
things like “I want to seize fate by the throat.”
Sure, he had social problems,
failed romantically over and over
and went deaf,
but he wrote Allegro from Violin Sonata, Op. 24,
playing out his jubilation and his anguish
across sheets,
through notes, and strings,
in parlors and on stages.

Every last one of us
alternately stumbles and destroys,
succeeds and glides,
but few possess the daring
to sincerely share the rawest
turmoil and joy,
channel and elevate
pure emotion to art.

I am grateful for the Beethovens,
the fearless,
for those who have let loose,
uncapping the rage and the love,
refusing to hold back
in hardware stores
or concert halls,
braving full exposure
and judgmental eyes,
to bring us beauty,
loan us,
even if only for moments,
hearts capable of withstanding
unsanitized truth.

 

April 6, 2014
Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 6

 

napo2014button1

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s