Piano

My fingers spread, tighten, understand
the pressure and give; a language
crawling up from deep,deep down;
each chord or note a response to the baggage

of meaningless prompts. But they form
reason, the melody of grace.
I played the piano with dumb
assurance, thoughtlessly racing

over keys,hardly surprised
but a sound that leaps out.
My eyes are closed and nothing arrives
but teh knowledge of the next note.

On the walk in pitch darkness
home from the church, my heart
races. I am afraid of the universe
of memory buried in my new-found art.