I am a lonely singer;

I live in my book of songs.

So long,

Cocooned in my silence.

The rhymes and reasons for melancholy

Echo through my skin.

 

Lord, chart me a course

To fly away on.

 

Raw and jagged are the reasons for

Silence.

They rip and gnaw

 

On the precipice of discovery,

On a candle dimly lit.

 

Lord, chart me a course

To fade away on.

 

Long and blue,

Like a winding river’s frozen dream.

 

You told me, once, your anger was born out of love;

My anger was borne

Through your love.

And I knew that when I hurt myself,

I was hurting YOU

Too.

 

So I placed the needle on the record

Instead.

 

I watched the red-hued orchestra perform

Dvorak’s New World Symphony; second movement.

It was

As constant as a northern star,

As endless as the rolling waves.

A homecoming touching the soul.

Lonely vibrato, resonating through my body.

 

That night I realized I must speak my truth;

 

That night I realized I must unfurl my fragile wings

In order to fly.

 

Today,

The sky has opened.

 

Today,

I live not in my book of songs but

Through

My book of songs.

 

Today,

I chart my own course,

And it’s as long and as blue as a winding river’s frozen dream.