The College Years
For Kim, who ponders these things far more than I
An Apology for Music
And my frail fingers pause on the keys. Where
Has that dark cluster of Chopin chords gone?
Sobs it still on this chill afternoon air?
Lingers it in the listening ears of one
Who sits attentive, yet smiles at a dream?
Has it lived, and died, for my joy alone?
And can my solitary peace redeem
Hours of effort—poured in an instant,
Hurried into an impetuous scheme
Of sound that rushes to climax, then slants
Into the unfilled silence and trembles
At its presumption? How dare it enchant
But one soul, one soul that slowly rambles
Through life, knowing His truth, praising His song,
While thousands drift songless to death? Mumble
Excuses, shirk the guilt . . . for I belong
Here, in this empty chapel, where music
Soars for an unheard moment. Is it wrong
To rejoice in sound’s rippling rhetoric?
11/10/83, Lookout Mountain, Georgia
NOTE: All text on this page is written by Sandra Fleming and is copyrighted @ 1982 by Sandra Fleming.