Amor de mi Alma by Jason Deiss

Stone arches frame

fifty voices.

All eyes,

intent on silence,

watch an arm

sweep serenely into motion.


A tone,

leader of brethren,

hangs in air.

Fingers dance familiar paths,

sketching a background

in aged ivory.


Voices join,

handfuls at a time.

Some float, others sink.

At times, agreement,

other places, discord,

always cooperation.


Cadence caresses,

molding intangible shapes,

fading peacefully


Voices fill the backdrop,

fingers resting.

Harmonies weave simple patterns,

a quiet dream;

tale of hope, true freedom.


Fingers step again.

Broken sounds rain

from painted window,

carrying vision to those

who cannot see.


The strangest occurrence,

swaying story

riding the music,

flowing around pillars,

down the pews,

bearing dreams to heaven

in the silence

that finally pierces

the noise.

Categories: Issue 1 - Fall 2011, Periodicals, Poetry | Leave a comment

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