Music, Maestro--or a Poem in G minor

For Josh Ancheta, an accomplished violinist at 11

It is a night like this one that comes to mind

When your music returns again to soothe

And salve. The violin, your violin, sings

And it knows how! I have seen how you finger

The strings, befriend them, coax them for a cantata

That is familiar and sacred, its notes aflutter

In spirals, ascending and descending the way

Your Bach would have wanted or imagined

Or heard. A minuet, you say, and our joy

Is full. That is how music is created: a heart

Beating to the tune of waves and whispers,

Key after key, rhythm after rhythm, until

The beat becomes complete. We listen

For clues to our enchantment as the silence

In the dance of fingers turns into language.

We see: Your firm hand holds the memory of notes

And that song that is mercifully wordless.

Ah, what magic, what faith, what grace!

A Solver Agcaoili

Honolulu, HI/August 23, 2008

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