Go Time
Sometimes what you need to hear winds up being what you didn’t know you wanted to hear. But with life being messy and unpredictable, those moments seem to come at odd angles—Not to mention times.
After all, this was a breakup, and I wasn’t the one giving the speech. She didn’t have the time she needed to put into this. She wished she did and that things were different, but they weren’t. I’m still waiting for the person who will step up and say “It’s you. Not me.”
This was the end of a creative partnership, but still. Plans that had been made were now suddenly open spaces in my calendar and I sat pondering how this latest disappointment affected the larger picture of my life and the options open to me. The library was silent for a few moments except for the low hush of breathing and the central air system regulating the temperature in the room. We had been using the library after closing for the past few months for rehearsals and meetings. My thoughts were punctured however with a comment so random to our discussion I had to ask her to repeat herself because I didn’t think I heard her correctly.
“Whatever you do, don’t stop playing the guitar.”
Where the hell did that come from? I thought to myself, but the question escaped my lips with more tact. I haven’t played the guitar for anyone in years, so I had no idea what would inspire such a remark. My severe lack of a poker face exposed my confusion.
Her explanation revealed that the randomness began when I had given her a copy of a DVD that had a couple music videos with performance footage of me playing guitar on it. What she saw of me in that footage prompted her request and caused me to consider how with the crash of that project, I had given up on something so ingrained in who I am. I had traded the guitar in favor of poetry. I had less baggage there. Ironic that it would be a poet that would inadvertently bring this to my attention.
Reminded of the video, I thought back to the shoot and more specifically to one of the breaks for a setup change. One of the crew asked me what I thought when on stage because I tend towards the explosive when performing with an electric guitar in my hands. I sidestepped the question with a witty answer because I didn’t feel like going into it at the time, but what the hell? I’ll go into it now since my friend made a good point that you might be able to relate to on some level. The truth is, I don’t think while performing, I feel and it feels a lot like the poem below. If the poem resonates with anything in your life, I recommend taking the advice given to me and don’t stop doing it. If you already have, perhaps, like with me, it’s time to give it another go.
Dragon
I breathe fire
as I take flight,
a leathery dart
pushing into the sky,
picking up speed
with every
beat of my wings.
I relish the resistance
of gravity
even as I defy it
with muscles and wind
furnishing my freedom.
Finally,
I soar to where
the air
is only barely dense enough
to carry my weight,
and briefly gaze at
the stars
hidden by daylight and atmosphere
from lesser altitudes
before plunging back down
to an age of darkness.
With one last scorching
exhale
I put my guitar away.
