No accompaniment, spontaneous, as natural as speaking. Hoarse, from too much speaking, and tears given into and tears held back, some of joy and some of a deep and unrelenting sorrow, for all the wasted days and misunderstandings.
But it was a true moment, and we both cried, and hugged each other, and promised to keep in better touch.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
I sang for my sister by the fire.
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often music sets us free
When I feel the freest - is freest a word? I mean, of course it must be, I've said it and heard it said, but written, doesn't it look odd, like it would be pronounced to rhyme with beast? - anyway, when I feel the most free is when I sing. Sometimes the singing precedes the feeling, and sometimes the feeling pushes the singing out. But I'm coming to realize, however unwillingly, that I'm meant to be on stage, even if it's a small stage, or an impromptu one, and the audience - small, large, whatever size - is a necessary part of claiming the voice, with the public singing being both a thank you and a gift. (I don't imagine that made sense. I was up late last night and had a big time, and am a little tired and slow today, but content. The clothes and dishes are caught up, the house is tidy enough, the sun is shining after a few rainy days so everything's gorgeous, we're grilling steaks - t-bones! - for dinner, and tomorrow I'm going to a friend's house to work more on the murals I'm making in her shed. The girls are outside playing happily with friends, I found a nice skirt for a couple of dollars at the thrift store the other day, and some books for cheap, and there's some ice cream in the freezer (with toffee, one of my favourite indulgences) to go along with the movie I might watch tonight if I don't decide to start on another book instead. Life is full, simple, slow. Happy Labour Day.
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