Friday, 9 January 2009


He didn't need to name the piece. She gasped out loud as soon as he began, held her breath.

Sitting in the formal grid of straight-up-and-down chairs he showed her a place beyond the daily fences of her own comforts. Where her heart missed a beat, where her pulse stumbled to race ahead of itself, like an out of control spin and dive, he just gathered her up and carried her with him, like she was a tiny speck of a being, dust in the slanting golden light that rained down to the right of the stage.

Behind her closed and weeping eyes, she looked out into the darkness from a well where all her sadness was being touched at once by hands of ancient knowing. But it was the bold and courageous wings of soaring melody that transported her forward, wrecked, heartbroken, into a shimmering but calm internal sea, that contained all she needed to know. 

The harmony pulled. Determined. Tidal. Holding her up under the arms, it was dragging her body clear of the memory of burning wreckage.