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Rated: 13+ · Prose · Music · #1922227
High notes quiver through the dry grass of Eastern Montana. The low notes drown, drawn...
And the wind calls your name

         for María

High notes quiver through dry grass in Eastern Montana. Low notes drown, drawn from depths of Pacific sea canyons. Life's roller coaster sings in arias. An orchestra's car-crash cacophony adds a counter-note.

You stand here between mountains. You sing to the plains. You're alive.

But your voice had a vision, a future not leading here, but somewhere with spotlights, a stage set for an opera. It demanded more than a musical; it clamored for acclaim, the fame of a well-tuned instrument. It did not know how easy it would break.

Still, you sing to these mountains, stand here on the plains. You survived.

Long hair, once short grass prairie bleached, flicked away the burnt fairy tale. You returned to a life you did not ask for, tried once to escape. Your voice still quivers in the harsh winter breeze. You've left the closed community that tried to choke you.

In these mountains you've returned to where the wind still calls your name.

© Kåre Enga [168.216] November 13, 2011

Note to self, earlier version: High notes quiver through the dry grass of Eastern Montana. The low notes drown, drawn from the depths of the Pacific sea canyons. Life's rollercoaster sings in arias. The orchestra's car-crash cacophony adds a counter-note.

You stand here between mountains. You sing to the plains. You're alive.

But the voice had a vision, a future not leading here, but somewhere with spotlights, a stage set for an opera. It demanded more than a musical; it clamored for acclaim, the fame of a well-tuned instrument. It did not know how easy it would break.

Still, you sing to these mountains, stand here on the plains. You survived.

Long hair, once short grass prairie bleached, flicked away the burnt fairytale. You returned to a life you did not ask for, tried once to escape. Your voice still quivers in the harsh winter breeze. You've left the closed community that tried to hold on to you.

You've returned to where the wind still calls your name.
© Copyright 2013 Kåre เลียม Enga (enga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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