Crossing Over

If you keep up with NaPoWriMo’s daily prompts (or my tags), you’ll have a spoiler for this one. For the rest of you, I’m going to post the poem in its last iteration first, then follow with the usual draft and commentary. (If you like, you can consider this a riddle poem from Day 13.) Number 28:

Silver threads
descend the river’s neck
but cannot cross its
hollow depths
and float from
silence
to sacred sound

until they wind
themselves up
and pull
themselves taut
to dance atop
the maple’s tiny spine

and as they cross
their voices echo
in the wooden well
and holy water flows
beneath our feet.

.

And the spoiler: today’s prompt was to write about a bridge. The poet shares my heart with a musician: both brought me to the bridge of a violin — the small, wooden element that suspends the strings over the soundboard (hollow body) of the instrument and allows the vibrations from the strings to be transferred into the body, where they then reverberate into the air.

As you’ll see in the draft, I mused about how the literal bridge of the instrument transports us across the metaphorical bridge of music: from the silent mundane to a more fulfilled and vibrant world.

bridge

I hope I don’t ever ruin these poems with my commentary and explanation. Let me know if you’d rather me leave them to your own interpretations 🙂

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