the piano
she sits at the piano
the old shadowed church holding her
trying to finger the notes to the Hallelujah Chorus
she's never played it before
but feels it inherent in the instrument
in the church
in her
there are ghosts here
ghosts of little children lined in rows
she saw them
ash crosses painted upon their foreheads
she wants to play
so they will sing again
the keys are cold and gritty beneath her fingertips
each covered with decades of dust
when it stirs
tiny angels swirl in the angled sunlight
they dance
to her unsteady song
there are prayers here
prayers left suspended in the emptiness
a humble please lord
echoes through the hollow
amen she cries
amen
notes tumble through the air
pulled to place by a knowing
she has only now become aware of again
hallelujah
tears fall at her fingertips
hallelujah
Sara Bednark
19 March 2001
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