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