The Heart of Piano:
Still,
quiet, and waiting. Creating sound, sustaining rhythm, and expressing
imagination. Black is the primary shade that curves each edge, as well as bleeds
through the white keys that sustain the notes. Structure, freedom, and
imagination create the sound, rhythm, and emotion of this chest. The piano
brings the heart and soul together as one, and sets the captive free to venture
beyond the past.
I stand beneath lights that dimmed so long
ago; they reach and then fade into the chapel peak afar. A raspy breath tugs at
my lungs and begs for warmth as my fingers shake in exhaustion. My heart pounds
as I lay my head atop the rugged piano chords. The keys of this ancient chest
smells of sweat, blood, and tears from ancestors of old. Like a pen to paper
forms what the creator desires, so my fingers placed on each key portray the
sound of my heart. I step back for a break long past due, and I sense the ache
of loneliness fall from the very legs supporting this delicate piano.
I close my eyes and imagine this cathedral in
the height of its day, I spin, and in a second, I am entering the front door.
People everywhere, I rise to my tiptoes and there in each corner are smiling
faces, people waiting expectantly conversing every once in a while to pass the
time. I push passed each warm body to catch a glimpse of the front. I feel a
sense of awe as I see the piano, radiant and as young as ever. With a soft
hush, everyone makes their way to their seats, and I proceed to the front. I
feel a nudge and I am shocked to see my grandmas powdered face, eyes as deep
green as the forest and the same twinkle as I remembered. I felt her soft lips
kiss my forehead as she hands me the sheet music. Before I can ask, I am facing
the chest that “holds my heart.” I can feel the beating of my own heart, and I
hear as if the piano is beating along with mine. I straighten my back and
proceed with chords I have long forgotten. With ease, I captivate each person, and
a sense of happiness radiates through the spring air. Before I know it, I am
standing to take a bow as the crowd cheers me on. I stand tall, open my eyes
and they are all gone.
A
gentle tear slides down my face as I kneel beside this chest so frail. I look
outward passed the cracked, and weed entangled pews to see beyond the doors
that cling to hinges rusted through, my mother with eyes as green as her
mothers. The moon lit her frame, and made her seem like an angel; to me she was
indeed my angel. She makes her way passed the pews and tries not to trip over
the weeds that seem to grab at her ankles, as her fingers grip a paper stained
sepia. She reaches it out to me, with a longing in her eyes. No word need be
spoken because our souls connected. I gently place the sheet on the stand, take
a deep breath, stretch tall, and place my fingers on the first chord. I glance
over my shoulder to see my mom sitting where grandma always liked to sit, with
crossed legs and a tilt of the head showing she was ready. The first chord
bellowed throughout the room with a startling burst of sound, I continued. Each
note allowed me to lose myself, and find myself at the same time. I ended with
a long sustain, stood and bowed before my audience of one. Embracing my
mother’s warm hand, and taking my first step off the stage was the beginning of
my future and the end of my past.
This
intricate chest can express the simplest feelings such as sorrow, and joy, or
loss and acceptance in just seconds of a touched key. It stands alone, it bears
the crowds, and it endures the pounding of a lovesick being, and comforts the
breaking of a heart. It soaks up tears, and radiates happiness. It amplifies
emotion and sooths the mind of chaos, and sets you free.
