Lost Items
What was lost to me you ask?It was stolen really.
I used to have music inside.
I lost it when a thief stole the piece of my soul that allowed me to bare myself generously and unhindered to an audience of strangers and friends. Prior to the theft, my opus created the tight-chested quiet weeping for those who know the sighing sounds of joy and pain. I delivered the delicious ache with soaring flight of phrase and nuance beyond little black scratches on parchment.
The sound of my breath
The sound of my heart
The sound of my cunt
My body was one with the faithful wood and chamber. We inhaled and exhaled rhythmically. My arms and thighs embraced the rich chestnut curves, carved from the gentle hands of its maker ... how many decades ago?
Yes, a thief ripped it out of my body. Not for his own use. The fucked-up-ness of it all is that he doesn’t even know he has it. He snatched something else, without regard to the musical soul that was tethered to his plunder.
So one of these days, very soon, I’m going to plant my feet, sit straight and proud, and reclaim the music. I miss the way it feels inside me.
(I started writing this piece 2 1/2 years ago. I guess some things finish themselves when they are ready to be finished.)
posted by Theresa @ 2/27/2005 01:18:00 AM
5 Comments:
I would love to hear that music.
It's my heart's desire to play that music. My cello is beautiful and he has been silent far too long. When we are ready, we will find a way to share with you.
Oh Theresa...how I hope you get your passionate soul music back. I have a feeling you NEED it more than you even know.
(even if you explained it to him...he could never comprehend what is it...EVER).
Yeow, Theresa! I would say it's time you got back to it.
So, I've thought about this, and thought about this. Then I thought about it some more.
What I came up with: You'll get it all back, Beautiful. Trust me on this one, I can feel it.
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