If I were to play my
violin in the desert, I believe that a great wind would swell up.
Showers would come on. Birds would
scream to the heavens, because “No one to hear," doesn’t equal
"No one to hear.”
When I beat my
drums alone in my home, an angry storm rises in my breast. My heart pounds along with the bass drum.
Dogs bark. Neighbor’s cats make squalling noises, but do not come close to the house.
The singing is different.
Even when I am
totally alone, if the song is
naked enough, I feel myself
performing.
I feel
eyes on me.
I know that you are watching. Even if you aren’t, really,
watching.
I don’t have a
voice anymore.
It was never really that good, anyway.
But in my heart, and in my room, I still perform.
And in the desert, I play my violin. For you.
~for etouffee and for deep thought, gone but not forgotten.