Finding Myself

There’s something about the feel

Of the strings beneath my fingers

That allows me to forget the world,

Even for just a minute.

There,

Tucked behind the smooth,

Glistening spruce body,

I feel myself let go.

I let the chords wash over me,

The notes ring through the air

In such an ornate order,

I feel as though nothing could go wrong.

Standing on the worn black stage

Of the high school auditorium,

Washed in the warm glow

Of the spotlight, 

I take a breath. 

In this moment,

I feel as though I’ve been born again,

The guitar I’m holding

Is an extension of my newly formed body.

This person

On stage,

This is someone I have not yet had the pleasure

Of meeting.

As my fingers begin to play

The familiar tune,

I realize

This girl,

She’s been hiding inside of me all along,

Waiting patiently for her chance

To be set

Free.

This poem is about: 
Me

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