Piano Lesson
My fingers trip over keys
of black and white ivory.
They stumble over sixteenth
notes, simple rhythms.
I wonder how the music survives.
My teacher repeatedly
tells me of my potential;
"I wish you had practiced this
a lot more," she sighs.
Well, I wish I could reveal to her
how my ambitions led my
hands to ruin, of the pain
that, one summer, plagued my wrists
so suddenly that tears
froze in my eyes. I live with this now:
this disease that burns through my
fingers with a raging ache,
locking up my fragile joints,
halting my progress,
stripping my potential, bit by bit;
but, despite this ailment, I
know I am filled with music
waiting to come out through these
soft, weakened digits.
I smile, and promise to try harder.
My fingers trip over keys
of black and white ivory.
They stumble over sixteenth
notes, simple rhythms.
I wonder how the music survives.
My teacher repeatedly
tells me of my potential;
"I wish you had practiced this
a lot more," she sighs.
Well, I wish I could reveal to her
how my ambitions led my
hands to ruin, of the pain
that, one summer, plagued my wrists
so suddenly that tears
froze in my eyes. I live with this now:
this disease that burns through my
fingers with a raging ache,
locking up my fragile joints,
halting my progress,
stripping my potential, bit by bit;
but, despite this ailment, I
know I am filled with music
waiting to come out through these
soft, weakened digits.
I smile, and promise to try harder.
