“(Sym)phony”
by Wren Campise
When I was young, I had no say
In going to my sister’s choir show
Where the band also played.
Little me, lost in fantasy
To the crashing of the cymbals
And drums, piano keys like waves;
The blaring of trumpets like an angel’s horn
Heralding the end
Of the song.
Each player in perfect harmony
Under a conductor God,
Unity
Chafing against my budding understanding
Of the world
Where nothing made sense.
I was all alone
In crowded rooms
Where everyone knew who they were
While I refused my own identity
To please the conductors of my life
Even as they instructed me to play a song discordant
To the music of my soul.
I might have seen a friend there,
Or a classmate
That I only kind of knew
If they had a sibling in that high school performing too.
But we never talked
Of the music played
Or what ran through our heads as we listened
Or if we believed the words in prayers
Taught to us in school.
Conversations too intimate for a passing familiarity.
Just as I didn’t know them, they didn’t know me
No one did
Not even me.
How could they
Or I
When I buried myself under sheets
Of music that played in my head
So that I didn’t have to face the music of reality.
I myself never learned
To play in a band
In sync with others.
Ba-dum, ba-dum
Like a solitary drum
My heart beats at its own pace.
Is there, then, a matching melody?
One who can help make sense
Of the flurry of should-be harmonious notes,
Life’s rapid race
To find ourselves.
A heart that plays on piano keys
Joining me for a symphony
Until the trumpet blare that means the end
Of what had been precious
Slipping through my fingers once again.
