Guitar Lesson

A hard lesson
from my guitar tonight:

my left hand’s become
a bald-faced lie

at which my
right hand cringes, 

but it does not demand
the truth.

A body divided against itself
cannot sing.

I grind my teeth
and pick up the guitar again, 

ask it at last to tell me
anything about what’s true?

I manage a chord, a small
simple chord, struck weakly but precisely;

start to recall, now,
what I know will actually heal

a damaged body; the willingness
to go through pain on the way

to the body’s rightful music.
I try again. I listen,

correct myself,
grind, chase the truth.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

3 responses to “Guitar Lesson

  • drdeacondog

    What a great poem! Full of beauty and pain. My “left hand a bald-faced lie.” Wow! My guitar-playing self gets that. Thank you for this piece.

    • Tony Brown

      Thank you. I have fairly severe neuropathy from diabetes in that hand. As I’m also someone who plays in a band, this plays hell with my necessary practice schedule. It ain’t fun.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: