Friday, February 4, 2011

A Symphony of Words

My fingers are poised on the keys, remembering again for the first time how thrilling the act of pressing, forming letters, words, are.

Fear enters, stemming the tide, flow. No matter how much I resist, my heart bruises easily. Me, a novice, trying to pen (an outdated, but loved term) my thoughts for the world? Yet not the entire world, perhaps a few.

I devour ink-scented pages and yearn, fear to be in their masters' place.

Why do I torment myself? Why? It would be so much easier to ignore the clarion call, to pretend that I'm pretending-- the desire is just that, and unimportant when compared to Real Life--

The answer comes when I read the endings of a hundred books*, eyes caressing the page, thrilling over and over, savoring.

Ah, so subjective.

Phrases, arranged in art form, touch and twist and stroke hidden fibers as Beethoven does, sparking a remembering of an almost-something which I can't put my finger on--

Right and good. Resonating.

So, I sit on my bed, fingers itching to fly, to discover, between endless meaningless words, phrases that catch and vibrate through me as the sounds of a rich cello, warm and deep.

I must create a symphony of words.

*       (Warning: a couple of 'naughty' words)


Kimberly said...

Oh Rebecca, you're a poet! This resonated with me in ways I don't know how to put into words. That yearning that is always present...and only gone when we pretend it never existed in the first place.

We have to fight the fear to make that word-music. And first we have to believe it's worth the fight.

Jen Daiker said...

A symphony of words. I love the sound of that. This post was beautiful!!!

Elizabeth Mueller said...

A symphony of words, well written! I love that. So well prosed, girl!!!


L.T. Elliot said...

Well said (written), Rebecca! I totally agree with Kim about your being a poet. It's really daunting chase this dream but every time I try and stop myself, I find my way back anyhow. So chase it. Chase it and let your self revel.