dVerse 26 Aug 2020

I Kept the Music

When I was not quite twelve,
I stood in the middle
of a green wheat field.

And I heard music.

I turned my hand flat
against the breeze as it
drew notes from everything
it touched. Sometimes

it was a small voice, or
a burst of wild laughter,
a nervous chatter.

It was background music for
white clouds chasing blue sky.

It was a change of weather
that spelled heat, and fireworks,
and bright light that found
its way through sheer cotton.

It was the year I learned
to keep myself to myself.

When I was not quite twelve
a small part of me was
already frozen.

But I always had that music.

for dVerse “Waiting on Wheat”   © Misky 2020

10 responses to “dVerse 26 Aug 2020”

  1. oh. oh. the tender images, the pang of sadness, but the consolation that there is music. this moved my heart.


  2. I am not quite sure whether to be happy or sad for you… Adolescence is a time of great change in our growing up years. Well done.


  3. Beverly Crawford avatar
    Beverly Crawford

    I think you were in the very same wheat field I wrote about. Could that be? I loved your poem.


  4. Such a beautiful reflection – I love that you still remember that music.


  5. Whatever it takes to survive. I’m glad your mind turned to the abiding music of nature. #metoo


  6. This is lovely, and thought provoking. I find these words very special in their detail:
    “A whisper shakes the wheatfield
    Soft and sibilant;
    Someone’s walked over my grave”

    It makes me think of how as infants we just WAIL out loud when we are unhappy. As we get older, we begin to curtail that until it becomes a sniffle and eyes that tear but tears that don’t fall. We learn to “stuff it” as the saying goes. There’s a reason some therapists talk about the benefits of a primal scream.
    I enjoyed this write very much.


    1. PS: I forgot to address how the “music’ still remains….and that’s the inner feelings that keep us going, pehaps….or the joy that we curtail and stuff? Makes the reader think.


  7. Oh the sadness of growing up, having to hide part of you. But if you have the music, you remember.


  8. Oh my aching heart this is poignant!


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