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| Snigdha Agrawal |
Music to elevate
sitting in the audience, they feel the healing process
an unseen salve soothing wounds, time refused to mend
of those with souls ulcerated…
their scars absorb the melody
like thirsty earth; unquenchable!
an unseen salve soothing wounds, time refused to mend
the notes carried by the wind, feel like antacid
cooling the fires of regret and grief
silencing the clamour of memories too loud
filling the void with something profound
of those with souls ulcerated…
heads bowed, feel her magical presence
eyes closed; she plays for all
her voice soaring in a symphony of solace
yet, no sound reaches her tympanic membrane
their scars absorb the melody
proving that souls have ears too
deaf to the echoes of her music
she gives of herself wholly
she heals, yet cannot be healed
like thirsty earth; unquenchable!
her music nourishes and revives spirits
a melody she would never hear
unknown to the audience who cheer
her gift she shares with no fear
***
The Song of the Bohemian Girl
She sings when the mood overtakes her
Not bound by the clock or the crowd
Her voice a wild, untamed river
Rising soft, then soaring loud
At street crossings where strangers hurry
Her notes cut through the city's din
On deserted beaches, under starlit skies
She hums to the waves and the restless tide
On hilltops crowned with whispering tree
she throws her song to the wandering breeze
she sings of love, of loss, of flight
her soul laid bare in the depths of night
The world gathers wherever she stands
The Bohemian girl with fingers on strings
Her song, a gift, untamed and free
A mirror of life, as it’s meant to be
***
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