A loss

Yesterday, my school music department lost one of the most talented and versatile accompanists ever to have graced a piano bench. She was a fixture of the department for many, many years and was beloved by all.

I didn’t know her, not really. But I know countless students and teachers whose lives will never be the same, all because of her. Watching them grieve over her loss, I couldn’t help but wish selfishly that I, too, had some tears to give.

I settled for this poem, a tribute to a sunbeam of an accompanist and to the miraculous burden of feeling.

 

The Pianist

The girl in this painting

strikes a melodramatic figure;

back turned,

gaze sneaking around curved shoulders

to reach past the painter

with his palette of dull earth tones,

on her face an expression of subdued wistfulness–

 

wide, innocent eyes that mask

blank canvas underneath,

dark eyebrows that betray

a certain irony.

 

Sensing the pang felt by her admirers,

of melancholy

and washed out regret,

she wishes,

for once,

to feel it herself.