raven song

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09/2001

Lately, I’V been feeling like I was standing outside watching everything and everybody. I wish I could take the part of me that was over there and the part of me that was over here and  push them together-make myself into one whole person like everybody else.

And if I could make music to all of these thoughts, it’d have to be piano music, with broken strings AND delayed sounds. And the keys would pound, CRESENDO to a finale. The color on the walls would be purple with red trails dripping down, slowly at first and faster to the beat of the orchestra. The PIANO room is curved and suffocating. No air. How am I supposed to be with no air? But on the outside of the piano room, I fight monsters, their voices are unfamiliar, darkness with endless demands. Last night, I  dared to leave THE piano room, and the largest beast told me,

"it's time to wake up."

If I could make music to these thoughts, it’d be music from a piano, as my mother sang softly, 

“hush little baby, don’t say a word, Mommy's gonna buy you a mockingbird...." 

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