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Pedestal
by Chris Sorrenti
Years ago I heard the music,
but ignored its fateful call;
sweet notes...chords
plucked and strummed.
Distracted, I fell from childhood grace,
launched into chemical clouds.
I set the guitar on a pedestal,
then flew away.
Years later I touched down, older;
so much time wasted,
swore I’d never stumble again,
but stumble I did into another maze,
that which was adulthood,
though wisdom now protected,
defined the boundaries,
showing the way back to the guitar.
Once again I heard the music,
still as sweet, clear and loud.
Nothing had changed…only me…only me.
I felt its pull even stronger,
looking back over the ocean of words
my fingers had bled from a guitar of paper;
no longer enough.
I had to complete what had been started
all those years before.
It was clear; only one way to erase the sin:
I walked over to the pedestal,
picked up the guitar and began to play.
© 1986
2,060 hits as of September 2024
06/03/2008 Posted on 06/04/2008
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Marjorie Anne Reagan on 06/04/08 at 03:45 AM This one strikes a familiar chord in me I am at the adult maze part. Trying to get back to the pedestal myself. "Sing unto the Lord a new song"
awesome post Chris, i really needed this poem tonight and right now. Amazing. |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 06/04/08 at 01:39 PM It is a good thing to mend past mistakes: Good
poem Chris.....Charlie |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 06/04/08 at 05:40 PM chris, i love this... touches home in so many levels... we might have stopped for the same, or different reasons, who knows, but it makes me think i might find my way back... |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 06/04/08 at 09:29 PM It's the keyboard for me, and though I've sat in front of it a few times, I haven't been able to recapture how my soul would pour onto the keys. It's still paper for me. So far. Lovely write, Chris. All hail the artist in all of us! |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 06/05/08 at 12:21 AM With openness, lacking sentimentality, you write of maturing (with some help I am sure). What a grand way, to go back where you left off. A very touching story with great promise of a happy ending! |
| Posted by Sandy M. Humphrey on 06/05/08 at 08:15 PM I can imagine there is so much more music that pours forth when you place that guitar in your hands and your fingers stroke the strings, after all the life you have lived, words you have read and written the artist finds an old outlet new again. smh |
| Posted by David R Spellman on 06/06/08 at 11:23 AM Great look at a procession of life and some of its divergent paths. Fotunately you were able to make your way back to "erasing the sin." Still, I'm happy that you chose to bleed that ocean of words and all that you have shared with us here. |
| Posted by Tony Young on 06/07/08 at 11:38 PM Excellent write Chris, each note a word and so many yet to be played, sadly it takes more than a lifetime to play em all. Guitar/flying lessons ?
good choice and thanks... |
| Posted by Nancy Ames on 06/08/08 at 08:54 PM This is such excellent writing and speaks to almost everyone - it's all about the song, right?
(When I was a teenager I refused to take typing lessons because I wanted to play the piano instead.) |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 06/11/08 at 01:34 AM As I read your poem I was touched by your honesty and I heard the music of your soul strummed for my hearing - played for my seeing - yelding gratitude for this well-traveled Brother whom I have grown to love and respect. Thank you my friend. |
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