Quiet

I can hear no note from your violin, my friend
I see you yearn, for something to emerge
Your frenzied bowing on stoic strings
Your tears, your face mobile with terror
The story must be told, you say
But the violin is quiet, very quiet
And you bow and you bow and you bow
But
I can hear no note from your violin, my friend

The night has dropped on you
Like thousands of dark restless nooses
The grim music of your tormented soul
Swirls around the wood, stabbing the emptiness
Even when your fingers move and you bow
Blue blood smears the strings
Sound struggles and finally – weary - gives up

I can hear no note from your violin, my friend