Thoughtful Revolution



Poetry Break: My First Chord

I couldn’t resist.

Esus4 Lullaby

My first chord was the E sustained fourth
and maybe that’s what started it all –
maybe cradling the roseate bones
of that guitar, in dying summer sun,
I knew my course would be to play
harmonics.  Maybe even then,
I was not a D chord sort of girl
(baby’s first prim frets, the simple
title and convention of puppy love,
fingerboard’s foremost kiss to a teenage
innocent) nor A minor (the groaning notes
of acoustic misery, unbridled longing/hate/
anger/unabashed what-you-will) nor even
guileless G (no knowledge
of structure nor shame).
Maybe when my fingertips
found their places, second fret, three strings in order – 1-2-3-predictable as anything –
they knew their home by reflex.  Or maybe it was not until
my pick flew down and nearly broke with beauty:

E sustained fourth, dark and fragile and
shaky as wind-blown blossoms –
a chord for the night and the uncertain,
a chord untouched by theory
and kissed with dying summer sun.

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