Jude dear . . .
You know, I think there is poetry in all of us.
Look back over the posts
and you tell me if you don't find poetry in just about every one of them?
Especially when someone speaks from the
heart place . . .
There is poetry all around us . . . everywhere . . .
in humor and in love and in happiness and in pain . . .
I have a friend whose
life is her poem.
It would take me too long to explain it all to you,
but I will tell you a little story.
She lived upstairs in this beautiful Victorian house,
in a large apartment hardwood floors and high ceilings.
On the last day she spread an antique quilt and a cushion on the bare floor,
placed a plain wooden chair and a music stand in the empty room,
near one of the tall windows looking out into the afternoon sun,
and invited me up to share a 'goodbye' to her stay in that apartment.
My friend stood in front of the chair and very simply,
sang for me an aria from Puccini in her clear, strong voice
I sat on the quilt and wept at the sheer beauty of the gift.
In a nutshell, that is the poetry of my friend's life.
She lives
all of her life that way,
with that kind of intention.
Dear
lili . . .
(no 'wings' today?)
I think of you now as I tell Jude the story of my friend,
and am not surprised at all that you can make someone weep with your playing.
The arts I agree are what connects us to the music of the spheres.
Your music is your poetry and your voice . . .
and I'm sure that you have more than frogs in your vocal chords,
which now makes me think of my mother
who called the doctor for an appointment.
When he asked her what the problem was,
she said, "I have a frog in my throat."
To which the doctor replied, "you don't need a doctor, Mrs. Allen,
you need a vet."
True story. I promise.
with love . . .
sparrow
