Weary Violin

It is my wrist rolling and my fingers curling.
The sound of blanketed thunder from under my skin.
And the feeling of strumming spider webs invisible in my fingers.
It is me twisting my spine and stretch of my shoulders.
The sound of a branch,
thick and heavy, gracefully, quickly,
plunging to the ground.
And the feeling a rubber band gets when it reaches its max.
and micro tears begin to pluck up from the tandem strings.
It is my ankle and toes curling and popping up on themselves.
The sound of little reptile feet scuttling over my joints and the feeling of being proud and tall like a dancer! A bird!
It is jutting my hip to the side and kicking out my knees.
The difference between them is the sound of knocking on wood and tapping lightly.
It is the feeling of reddened knuckles because of it.
It is me being fine tuned and scuffed up like a weary violin that makes me feel undone and yet so with the world that i cannot stand it.
And it makes me feel powerful.