Sunday, November 9, 2014
The Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello by Johann Sebastian Bach
I try to write it this way:
Going down is the hard part.
The ravine is cold.
I am alone.
I am scared.
The woods are deep.
I am scared because I am alone and because the woods are growing dark.
I cry the nearest approximation of the sound of my heart breaking.
He drives away.
I am standing in my socks on the asphalt,
The old man at the party wore his sweater tucked into his jeans.
I laughed when others made fun of him.
Not to his face.
But I laughed.
I do not want to be blamed for this.
I am so very sorry.
I have been invited to a moon-howling.
There will be a campfire. It will be dark,
save for the moon, which will be very bright.
The boy who loves birds might come.
Fifty or more of us will gather together.
We will stand shoulder to shoulder as we scream.