Discovery

18 May 2005

Discovery


The details of the circumstance are vague.
I clasp onto a hazy recollection
Spawned more from sheer emotion and impact
Than any fact. The date was surely summer
—No—autumn, perhaps? Or some occasion
On which my father’s brother and his wife
Abandoned their Manhattan for an evening
In the country—not unusual.
So vivid still remains that odd sensation
Of youth as prison, with bedtime shackles
Keeping me from things I’d never relished
Like late-night conversation with the grown-ups.

Begrudgingly I plodded to my bedroom
(A girlish fantasy of rosebud hues)
And even those maternal lips on my forehead
Could not relieve the stinging, nagging thought
Of life’s great fleeting moments slept away.
Just moments after, surely dreams did take me
Away, as two rooms over, mumbled laughter
Evolved into some quiet melody.
Interjected with a cough, or clinking glasses,
There played, imperfectly, a perfect song.
A high E flat awoke me from my slumber,
So with no choice I went to meet its maker.

On tiptoes, creeping toward the melodies
I felt a flutter as the music swelled.
It sounded not like anything I’d heard
On big flat discs Mom had that spun around.
It moved me in a way my childish heart
Could barely comprehend, I came alive
From some angelic voice just steps away.
Poking my porcelain face around the corner
I hoped not to be seen at three feet tall.
The image there before me, I believe,
Still burns within the center of my soul.
My parents, elders, ultimate protectors
Stood gathered as my uncle’s fingers danced
Along the ivories. They were transformed—
Singers, now, remarkable performers
Embodied by my very own creators.

In some ways life loses its novelty
As self-defining moments slowly slip
Through older, somewhat aged, judgmental fingers.
As so I thank the tender days of youth
For granting me a genuine impression.
I found my heroes fifteen years ago.


© Kate Canary 2005