Today, I wrote about music, which has always been my inspiration for poetry. Not a day has gone by in my life that music has not been a part of me, physically in me. I remember taking the small key board my brother gave to me when I was four and I started playing full songs by ear. Key by key, I taught myself to listen to sound, the rhythm, the melody and harmony and the piano became my tool for music. It was only when my music teachers started forcing me to learn theory that my obsession and passion died. I was listening to Erik Satie, and it always reminds me of the day my music died.
Gnossiennes
No. 1
I learned
music with
my ears,
with the
vibration on my skin,
the calluses
on my fingertips
as I played between
the
mysteries and spaces,
between tune
and key.
At one time,
I was free
in the landscape
of sound,
curving my ear
around
the shape of
harmony.
But then,
they saw my
talent
and forced
me to make music
with my eyes.
Overnight
I became
a displaced
person
in a foreign
country
unable to speak
the language
of my
oppressor.
I could not
feel
the whole or
half note.
Music
forced onto staffs
and the
little flags on notes,
into a form that
I could
not
translate.
Posts
A lovely, bitter sweet piece./ Music
ReplyDeleteforced onto staffs
and the little flags on notes,
into a form that I could
not translate./ Those little flags....