The Wounds You've Healed

I don’t know why after all these years,

I’m still surprised

When the purity of your voice,

The purity of your talent,

Wraps me in a womb

Of calm, warm alpha waves

That fills the holes in my heart

Somehow.

To mould a song from thin air

That you coax to grow,

Magically,

Like giving birth to a thing of perfection,

Its notes a double-helix of DNA notes

With not a single protein out of place,

Not a rest or a sixty-fourth note wrong

Or misshapen.

It’s a miracle indeed.

The sound takes me to

So many places

In the center of a universal soul

All placid and full of downy soft dreams.

With never a sharp corner or ragged edge

To tear my peace asunder.

I don’t know why after all these years,

I’m still surprised

When the sparkle in your eyes

Tells me you’re happy

Long before the words are said.

Somehow, the world would hold

Hands beneath you if it could.

It’s karma, I think…

For all the wounds you’ve healed,

For the hearts you’ve held in your hands

And failed to crush when you could have.

So many want nothing more from you

Than to know that you’re happy.

It’s a miracle indeed.

© 2008 C. Harter Amos