If I were to play my violin
in the desert, I believe that a great wind would swell up.
Showers would come on. Birds would scream
to the heavens, because “No one to hear," doesn’t equal "No one to hear
When I beat my drums
alone in my home, an angry storm rises in my breast. My heart pounds along with the bass drum.
Dogs bark. Neighbor’s cats make squalling noises, but do not come close to the house.
The singing is different.
Even when I am totally
alone, if the song is naked
enough, I feel myself performing
I feel eyes
I know that you are watching. Even if you aren’t, really, watching
I don’t have a voice
It was never really that good, anyway.
But in my heart, and in my room, I still perform.
And in the desert, I play my violin. For you.
~for etouffee and for deep thought, gone but not forgotten.