Ah, child of the dust,
how shall I tell you?
Come, please, and play my strings.
For I am mute. Absolute.
I want to be heard,
but the weight is the word.
Bring your patience.
Is there not some residual worth?
And now, you must tune.
Though you know me not,
in weary sighs I will tell you how…
The two highest are of a single strand.
They can speak beauty, poignant and piercing,
played with a bow.
The two that are next are of wire finely wound.
They speak of wisdom gained, lessons learned,
kindnesses felt and given.
The two that are last are more heavily coiled.
for they bear the most weight.
They speak of things sad, and of guilt and betrayal,
of regret, and of harrowing penance.
Pluck them slowly, with soft fingerpads.
If any should break at the peg,
stay and warm me.
Let the sting subside.
Rid me of the useless member.
Play me again, with your love,
and know that, now, it matters not.