In the repeated notes
of a droning folk tune
there is clarity.
In the
blocked harmony of doo-wop
there is a settlement of old arguments
through nostalgia and a striving
for harmony.
In the rising tsunami
of a metal song
there is jubilation.
Hard as a blues can come, there is often
in the bent frame of it
a reassurance that becomes
a giving up
that leads to a getting up
and a moving along.
I have been repaired by music so often
I cannot breathe for long in its absence,
until I remind myself of the drumming
that is always within and the songs
I can create at any moment I choose.
“Every vessel holds healing.” That’s
what and why I am always humming.

October 15th, 2012 at 11:09 pm
I read an autobiography once by a former drug-addict/dealer/thief who said when he and his friends were in deepest despair, music was almost like their religion- since it was so healing. Such a mysterious gift. Your poem expresses what you had to say so well!
October 16th, 2012 at 1:07 am
Thank you very much.