Deep Silence

When we lived in Campbeltown there was a very active music society and its monthly concerts filled one of the local church halls. In the minutes before a concert began you could feel the audience quieten and prepare to give itself over to the music.

I remember one concert in particular. A young pianist from Kiev sat at the piano and bowed her head. There wasn’t a sound in the hall. Very slowly she rested her fingers on the keys. The silence deepened as she raised her head and hands and began to play. The atmosphere was profound.

I sometimes sense profundity in the few minutes before our church services begin as we prepare to give ourselves over to the worship of Almighty God.

The pianist

Slim fingers

dance on ivory.

Earth’s rock heart

melts and swells, ripe plum-like

bursts and spills itself,

heaving to the very edge of pain

and back.

Staccatos rocket high

and land

to spring and tumble.

Melodies trickling into cracks

wait eagerly

for catch-me-if-you-can.

Slim fingers

beat a pulse,

and I can breathe again.