Dear Choir Director; a funny poem about how my wonderful conductor erroneously selected me
Dear Choir Director
When you asked me to sing in front of
the entire Select choir of college peers
I shut down.
I couldn't find the note.
You looked at me with revulsion in your eyes like
who the hell are you and what are you doing in my choir?
No one standing beside me gave a hug or nod.
They inched away
I was some contagion polluting
their sacred space.
My roommate averted her eyes.
Exposed like a cadaver
in that huge auditorium of a rehearsal room
I waited for the faded yellow tiles to suck me under.
Choir was my safe place.
My refuge from peer scrutiny.
In this echo chamber, I sang my part.
I blended and flowed without
anomole: part of a whole.
Shaping notes let go my need to
analyze, compartmentalize, trivialize.
Focused on breathing
I was Present
Until this moment.
A first alto accomplished
what I could not and
I walked alone from the room.
No one spoke of this
though we choired together
for three more years.
The memory lactated
in my unconscious
until I dislodged the heart
of my pain
© 2010 Barbara
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