A Melody on the Strings of Life

Dicey strings loom ahead on that enormous stage,

I tremble, terrified of onlooking eyes.

Piscine pissed upon, I think to myself,

cookie-cutter, ugly-colored, failed fallopian.

I could quit, sweaty palms and heavy arms, Eminem-esque, like a

lemon, melanin silenced. Cowardice never seemed so

succulent. Failure never seemed so

appetizing.

Yes, I could run —

but I can’t.

Surreptitious sin got us into

this mess in the first place.

No. Amidst my dread and uncertainty

I’m compelled to return to the symphony

we were made for — magnificent

beings, images of greatness, sons and daughters.

I walk onto those indefinite strings,

embracing my fragility.

My melody rises like chai, taut and tempered,

beautiful and mysterious.

Musical meaning resounds and

everyone

is in awe of His faintly veiled glory

and peace.

This poem is about:

Me

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