The Song

A singer stands behind the dark cloud of a curtain, waiting for her call.

Her body tense with anticipation, excitement and dread blow over her like the angry wind before a storm.

The curtain opens; the gale is just beginning, and she feels so unspeakably small.

The audience’s applause is thunder to her ears; she strains to keep her form.

The music starts, her heart stops; every passing beat intensifies her fears.

Stifling few measures and the gall is pressing in on her; she can hardly breathe.

When she does, her breath comes in loud, windy gusts; surely they can hear that noise.

She opens her mouth and a flood of emotion emerges out of her, roaring in her ears.

The tempest is in full motion now, as the emotions inside her twist and wreathe.

She crescendos to the climax; a cold, biting anxiety threatens to spill over and into her voice.

 

Suddenly that clear high note, like the blinding rays of the sun, ruptures the sky!

A light breaks the spell, and the note glimmers on a beam of confidence and grace.

The passionate melody stretches in a perfect arc above the air like a rainbow before her eyes.

The listeners behold this phenomenon as her spirit fills them with a warm embrace.

The once dismal downpour now sparkles with full radiance and cheerful glow.

The singer is the sun; she bestows her warmth to the thirsty crowd.

Free of pressure, and rid of impending doom, the vocalist soars like a nightingale set free.

The gusts of wind have blown into a thousand small breezes below.

As the curtain descends, it blankets her softly, no longer a dark cloud.

The applause commences, not thundering now, but rather a beautiful jubilee.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741