Fear and Inspiration

Bow
by Diana Cardiff

Static dissolves into vertical lines of sweet spruce scent as the skeleton, with its tectonic skull and airy chest, asks "Why?"

It seems all we do is rotate our parts repeating the same movements as life's melancholy yet hopeful song plays on.

Saying good-bye to those we love over and over again, like a numbing wave. A straining gesture. Tendonitis of the soul.

Except we do not feel numb when they take their final bow. 

We look around frantically searching for something to make it feel ok. Desperate to hinge it back together, like puzzle pieces of phalanges rushing to manufacture the instrument. 

Violin chords seep out of the cracks and pores in our bones. And the continental shelf of our head spreads cords like roots searching for water.

Water to quench our beating broken hearts.

Fading out and cracking apart, we experience this until it's our turn to bow and end the good-byes.