Dear Marius
Show You How I Play
Written July 10th
Come, I want to show you
I follow, we sit
A smile on your lips
Eyes full of light
I see your passion
Before you even start to play
Come, I want to show you
To me you say
A deep breath,
And your fingers set free
The first notes, begging for life
Starting soft, your fingers dance
I am a bystander
Of this musical romance
And I can’t avert my stare
Your fingers, they fly
With such love, skill, and care
Come, I want to show you
I had no idea
Of what I was about to witness
This stunning dance
Of your fingers and the white keys
Nimble, darting like a spider
Yet gentle as a summer rain
The music reflects its soft patter
Filling the air, my ears
I am hearing for the first time
I had no idea
That I’d been deaf my whole life
Following the music, you sway
Eyes closed, your mind drifting away
The song crescendos
And I can’t see your fingers
And unintelligible blur
My eyes sting with phantom tears
On the edge of my sit
My heart pounds
I can hardly breathe
Thunderstruck by your creation
That you wanted me to hear
Softly, you finish your song
Your soul returns to your body
As your fingers slow
Carefully carrying the music to a close
I stare at my feet
Clinging to the memory
As I regulate my heartbeat
The last note sighs and disappears
Echoing and bittersweet
You turn to me
Eager for my input
But I am mute,
Reveling in my new ability to hear
All I can do is hug you
Come, I want to show you
Show you how I play
From then on I asked you every day
Show me, show me how you play
Come, I want to show you
Show you how I play
Not a day goes by, a single day
Without my heart’s wish to hear you play.
----
This poem is about the first time I heard Michael play. He was so eager to show me... and I was eager to hear too, but I was thinking in the back of my mind what I would have to say to make him feel good, even if he sucked. In the end, I couldn't even speak. Mikey, you blew me off my feet, and the story remains the same for all the times I heard you play.
Tonight I will fall asleep to your senada. Thank god for the internet and its video-posting abilities. I'm glad not all of your music disappeared in that damn fire.
This is number 11, I believe. How many will there be when I finish Dear Marius? I don't know. I always think I'm done, and then I write another.
I love you to the moon and back, Marius.
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