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.