The tiny girl walks to the piano
The auditorium packed, expectant,
She sits and is momentarily lost in the vastness of the space.
With the first note
We are mesmerised,
Glued to our seats.
The magic rolls out before us
As she sets the heavens alight.
From her fingers are the sounds only angels emit.
I glance at my program and read once again those final words:
“My abusers, I know who you are
My music names each one of you
Listen for your names to ring out.”
As she plays several audience squirm
Ties are loosened,
The uneasiness in the midst of divine revelation
Cuts the air, but no one moves.
The music from the tiny girl