The Violinist


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Will these strings betoken bravery?

Breathe, and then I play,

Will these chords console the lachrymose,
Weep not, but how can I?

Will this chorale tend scarred hearts?
A prayer to say, the rest to God.
Will the silence in this sanctuary cease to echo?
Oh how it speaks so loudly.

Will I play to turn back time?
Only so, with my eyes closed.
Will memories flood the hall and offer reassurance ?
My shaky fingers, they fret about this bow.
But I pray as I play.

These strings, my emotions they control,
Forgiveness is not a new thing
These chords, they heal
Closure is not a stranger.
The chorale, we sing in commemoration,
Heroes in our eyes, always .
The violinist, composed but visibly emotional,
Her violin, bespeaks the aftermath of 9/11.

9 thoughts on “The Violinist

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