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| Pavel Danilyuk |
Piano Lesson
Music never failed to move my father
who would lift his baritone and hold
a note until breath was out, and sound,
a memory of notes he took in hand
to show his love of life, his care
for all of us who touched his heart.
He urged me to let my heart
dictate the piano score. My father
would sing the lines to show his care
for how a simple melody could hold
joy or sorrow in the same hand,
could make of notes an angelic sound.
For him there was nothing so sound
as a phrase spun by the heart.
The upright shook in my hands
as I leaned with the song. My father
would listen as I practiced, holding
his face uplifted with gentle care.
And as I played, Beethoven’s careful
lineage of notes rang out. The sound
of love in triumph would hold
me transfixed on bench, my heart
in fullness, grateful to my father
who showed the way to glory’s hand.
There’s always a chord to take in hand
to echo the true musician’s care
for what passes understanding. My father
would yield his voice to the sound
of truth, of life, of love. The heart
must sing to release its treasured hold.
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| Carol Barrett |
Carol Barrett began writing poetry to support the widowed women she was counseling. Her most recent book is READING WIND. Currently living in Oregon, Carol supervises creative dissertations for students at two universities.
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