A poem about expressing what's truly inside, and how that process can be sparked by music. Inspired greatly by the song, "Killing Me Softly." For more info, see the footnoote. And the pain
Speaks, in the space between;
where the buildings loom not, and the trees sit in the lonely silent emptiness;
where space flowers and spreads,
germinating in a cloud borne on swirling wind.
The pure pain
speaks out, vision spoken out on prophet's tongue,
played through, on fingers of the musical mathematicians,
sung out, sung out gently,
in throats of foggy-grouped singers.
The pain
Slips ballroom sideways,
in that agonizing quiet grace,
bare of the vulgar matted overgowns,
coats and wraps,
screens and veils:
The pain
tears at its onlookers's heart,
upon his eyes' fall to it, lying naked in its pooling blood,
ghastly face to be once beheld
and never forgotten:
The pain
becomes eye-flowingly beautiful
in its plain simplicity,
in the consequence of simple step after
simple step;
She dances
in simple grace;
The beautiful pain
Is too much to bear.
-----------------------
This is a song, inspired by a song, inspired by a song.
I was in someone's car today, and heard a cover of the beautiful song, "Killing Me Softly."
As Wikipedia tells it, Singer/songwriter Lori Lieberman saw Don McLean singing his composition "Empty Chairs" in concert. Afterwards, Lieberman wrote a poem titled "Killing Me Softly with His Blues", which became the basis for the song written by Norman Gimbel and Charles Fox.
I listened to Roberta Flack's (Grammy-winning) version of the song just now, and it really moved me in its simplicity; in its directly described pain and anguish. As I interpret it, the songwriter expresses the dumbfounding, bewildering, overpowering experience of having her emotions and deepest, most inner experiences suddenly laid bare by a stranger:
... And there he was, this young boy
A stranger to my eyes
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song...
She speaks of her intense discomfort at being laid emotionally bare: vulnerable and helpless, at the mercy of the "young boy" with the words that penetrated into her heart like a knife:
I felt all flushed with fever
Embarrassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
I really found there was a lot of pure, frank emotion expressed in this song. A lot of pain.
And that inspired me to write my poem above. Joining as a link in the chain of songs...
Don McLean ("
Empty Chairs") ->
Lori Lieberman ("
Killing Me Softly With His Blues") ->
Charles Fox & Norman Gimbel ("
Killing Me Softly With His Song") [Performed by Roberta Flack] ->
Me ("The Pain")
To really get my poem, I recommend you read it while you have "Killing Me Softly With His Song" play in the background. That's what I did as I wrote it.
