Harmony Flies Free

If you go to sell your violin
and buy a bow
strings, if you begin to play again, things
strings and things you’ve played before
will resonate and want to sound the same

You may pass a room or hear a tune
that herded you
to repeat a phase that you’ve played
out so many times it tempts you to...

your violin only to buy a new bow
how neat... strings and things seem when stretched and taut
stressed and taught to repeat in phrases
the same verses and versions of...
if played from the same tonal reality
even if the notes the strings the things change
the reverberating sound will parallel
the hell...
with it

a new bow same hands, same fingers...
it all sounds the same
the strings line up, the parallels prepared
you pass a room
you hear a note
you know you’ve changed
you play the same
a new bow, strings, things, a crow...

falls from a tree
seized up in the moment, his life’s on the ground
he holds onto a twig
a branch from the tree
he opens his eyes, being lifted from a box...
he now sees and flies to the tree
same crow, same twig
but free

He picks up his violin
same hands, same fingers, same rooms but a new bow
which leads with a bow to new seen subtleties
and as never...
before he plays he bows
as the crow flies
to be
with a new bow