Cello

This 
unforgiving 
cello
of mine will not
speak
in its
rich,
earthy
voice
if i 
come
to it
in anger, selfishness or
arrogance. My cello is my teacher,
requiring patience, love, and passion
of me before it will sing. Its voice is 
more familiar to me than my own,
and these strings have been under
my rough fingers for far
far longer than I can
 remember. I spoke
with the music of this
instrument long before I ever
used words, and even now after the
hundreds of words that I have read or 
spoken, the things that i can say when I
draw my bow across the strings is far more
eloquent than anything I could ever speak
or write of myself. My cello has a voice
that sings alone in the darkness, crying
out its joy when there is no other comfort
in the world if I could not play,then
i would have no voice.
my
cello
is
my
h
e
a
r
t