Saturday, December 18, 2021

Fine Tuning


 











Our songs are played in different keys

sometimes discordant in their sound

filled with dark intrusive notes

falling short on harmony,

without tempo or synchrony.

Perhaps the music comes too late

out of step and short in time­­–

and symphony is not our fate.

Yet, if I were a strategist

I might not bet against the odds:

to say our chances don’t exist

could be a great concerto, missed.

The lines may often obfuscate

to generate an unclear passage,

yet every note we iterate,

every measure we have tendered,

becomes part of a larger whole.

I understand your dissonance

inside the lines and written texts;

the darker notes, the allegory,

that shatter norms but tell a story.

Each composer wants the same

in every spoken admonition,

not longevity or fame–

but a chance to write their own attrition.

It’s in the dark we find the light,

the yin and yang of our volition

and in the seeking, we are found.

Yet in sharing our confession

we break out of our own mold–

and in the honesty we render

we find the window to our soul.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.