By Christine Murrain
I remember making music,
Back when life made sense:
Like finding shade on a warm sunny day
And connecting with someone who “gets you”
Like…
A village raises a child,
And paints a portrait of warm,
Supportive tones.
They induce the feeling of nurture and inclusiveness.
I’d sing and dance,
And dance while singing,
Respectfully disregarding any audience,
To become one with our creator,
Twirling
And leaping about as if heaven should ascend me.
Remember?
When I used to smile a smile of sunlit purity,
So wide
As if mouths could hug,
Broad and welcoming.
“Singing made me happy,”
Is what I thought before realizing that
Happiness compelled my lips to utter tunes:
“Happiness made me sing.”
And if happiness should swell up inside of me once more,
Upon capacity,
I’d sing again
With no greater option, than to release joyous cries,
As morning doves do,
Gleefully resounding, throughout world,
Throughout life.
Sing with me.
Song + Prose 