For A. J.
Three months of lessons
cannot be enough.
But things happen
that are not supposed to and
now I am supposed to say he needs
God, I am supposed to understand
the boy has bigger things to worry
about than music lessons.
I should offer thoughts or prayers,
but I have none, nothing to offer,
and I do not want to talk about
God, I want to
put a violin back in his hands
and teach him every note
on the fingerboard, show him
how to draw the bow smoothly
deeply legato, how to produce a fast
skittering spiccato, how to rain heavy
hammered marcato strokes
all over the floor bounce them off the walls
throw them against the hard high ceiling.
Let me offer Adagios and Prestos that will sink
deep into his bones and grow there, let
him have Andantes and Giocosos
flowing from his heart to his fingers
and back again, touching the want,
feeding the wait, the listen.
Let me offer him
one thousand tongues
in which to speak to God.
Let him learn
ten thousand ways
to hear.
Karen Bjork Kubin is a writer and musician who loves music for the way it bypasses words and words for the way they bypass performance, waiting patiently once committed to paper or screen. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and three children.