in the earnest evening
we sang a sacred song
of golden twilight gleaming
for those who're laden long.
we harmonized, and sympathized,
ancestral lives and lions --
for in the earnest evening comes
our forbears in
the silence
I grew up in a family of instrumental musicians and singers and became one myself at a very young age. At the rather advanced age I am now, that has pretty much devolved into weekly playing the piano and organ and occasionally writing or arranging music. I can only barely sing, but like most people who can’t really sing, I love doing it… so long as no one can see or hear me.
Recently, I have found myself remembering a lot of obscure songs I heard in my youth and this being age of YouTube, I have been able to find most of them. Sometimes I remember songs almost perfectly, but most of the time, I only really remember bits and pieces.
Old music always reminds me of my parents, who met singing, loved singing, and had us singing together as a family from my earliest memories. I hated singing in public, which they could not comprehend. People who love to perform have a hard time understanding those of us who would just rather not.
There’s something about music that I find to be… ancestral. I’ve always loved ancient music, and maybe that’s why. The poem above is an effort to get at that feeling.
How does music most move you?
