When I was little, it was an echo.
A murmur, a silence, a thought.
A wish.
It was the idea, bouncing from file cabinet to file cabinet
Within my head, searching for a pedestal,
An outlet, an open vent.
When I was in-between, it was a word.
An utterance, a noise, a spark.
A reality.
It was the feeling, reverberating from key to key
Within our strawberry den, playing heartstrings;
An escape, a tremor.
When I was older, it was a scream.
A plea, a stammer, a stomp.
A fantasy.
It was the grievance, pushing from ivory to ivory
Within the confines of a flat escalator,
A button, an ending.
My piano has always been my life.
As a child, I yearned for one. I played that plastic one
That sat on my windowsill
Until the keys didn’t register feeling.
And at that point, I didn’t either.
Coming home to a baby grand at the age of four
Was like coming home to a free pass to heaven.
The keys gave me life, a voice, a pair of stilts
That pushed me higher
Than I thought I would go.
Who knew the presence of music could help
Me to find
Myself?
And further, who could tell
The insurmountable ways music,
The flowing of one note into a gentle finger stroke
Could outlet my fears, anxieties, and worries
Into a world where none of it mattered?
None?
My music, my piano, my life.
Synonymous with each other, they
Represent change.
All I am, ever was,
And ever will be.
You can find me
Within a treble staff.
poem for AP Lit