Finn asked me why I didn’t play anymore. I didn’t have a good answer for him. I didn’t have one for myself. For so long, it was like the tune was left on that icy road with all the glass and metal and blood. Playing without Harper was a betrayal of her memory and all the songs we’d written together.
I lift the fallboard. Carefully spread open the sheet music.
My fingers move on their own, finding the keys.
And I begin to play. Not just the keys but the lyrics, too. They come spilling out of my mouth softly. As infrequently as I’ve played this last year, I’ve sung even less. I’m no real vocalist, but I can carry enough of a tune to accompany the notes.
In every quiet room I hear echoes of you
And search for phantoms in vain
I’ve no clue how to breathe again
How to let the sun return after the rain
And I’ve built these walls so high
With bloody hands, brick by brick
Forgetting that up above, all along,
there’s been a sky
I’m looking for a song in the dark
A melody whispering in the wind
and through each quiet night
I’m trying to get back in the fight
Time weaves a tapestry of moments
Threading pain into passion, tangling my befores
into my beginnings
A symphony of a life, still unlived
And I’ve built these walls so high
With bloody hands, brick by brick
Forgetting that up above, all along,
there’s been a sky
I’m looking for a song in the dark
A melody whispering in the wind
and through each quiet night
I’m trying to get back in the fight
So one day I look up
One day I give in
