So, of course, I’m going to share a poem. I think I’ve mentioned before that I once took cello lessons. I think it’s an absolutely gorgeous instrument and while those piano lessons I took as a kid didn’t pan out, I figured wanting to learn to play would give me a leg up this time around.
And it did. But you can only get so far by grit alone. I eventually ran up against an utter lack of natural talent and so, set the instrument aside after learning to play something that was at least recognizable. Sometimes, you just have to let go.
GIVING UP THE CELLO
Watching Yo Yo Ma
wring a symphony
from four thin strings,
I think of the cello
sitting idle in my closet
behind a wedding gown
and a sack of old clothes.
I was not made for music,
no matter how my hands
itch to wield a bow,
to sing a mellow song
that vibrates deep
in my soul. I feel
music hiding there,
but my fingers refuse
to pluck it out.
It seems there are many
things I wasn’t made to do,
though I often nurture
the seeds of longing.
This garden of mine is weedy,
rabbits nibble tender leaves.
Still, I’ll scatter handfuls
of seeds to see what grows.
And then . . .
. . . I’ll make music of that.
Love this!!!
And I had it in the hopper BEFORE your post yesterday!
I so relate to the desire to create music but live in the realization of possessing the lack of talent. Your poem caught this well. I rely on the old adage–some were made to create, while others to appreciate.
Happy Poetry Month
It’s good to know I’m not alone! Thanks for dropping by.
We make the music of life out of whatever gifts we are blessed with, but I still long for the gift of being able to sing well. Guess it ain’t gonna happen at 70. 😉
Thistle likes me singing. Well, sort of.