The Piano

He wanted to own her like a piano,

play her when he wanted.

Store her at Westy’s,

dust her off and use her again.

 

Place her in a light-filled room

with orchids and paintings,

tune her,

show her off when guests arrive. “What a beautiful piano.”

“I love the silver frames propped upon her shoulders.”

 

Frames of gold patina,

sculptures of cats, and an elephant saying, “I am

educated.” Tone-deaf to the occasional banging

for slipping the wrong key, not in harmony with the maestro’s symphony.

 

The piano had almost everything she needed.

Ivory keys well taken care of,

pedals tapped lightly when controlled. A privileged life,

well-serviced cracks…

 

Then one day,

after an accumulation

of C-sharp and B minor

after the children left

and there was silence

the piano woke up.

No longer distracted by chaos, scales, or voices of children,

she knew that she was owned.

Lied to, tricked,

abandoned in the corner,

placed to lick her wounds

while the conductor lived his life the way he wanted—

he was king.

 

“Be quiet, you are lucky!”

“Enjoy the light, with your views into the fields of apple orchards and pears!”

“Enjoy the curtains between the gold gilded frames…you are free.”

 

“There is no way out of this silent corner. No one knows where you are. I have placed you, caught you,

isolated you, my butterfly.

How dare you try to play your keys?

You are weakening until you have no sound.

I stole your music, my piano.”

 

Then one day,

the stars aligned,

offering the piano her story.

The reflection of her unrecognizable self barely twinkling in the skies,

the piano envisioned her exit.

 

Little by little, she rotated her wheels, practiced one note at a time.

Gaining momentum and

freeing herself from the sanctuary where her spirit and music were sucked dry.

She pried herself out from the manicured corner,

limped along to her meek song.

The only chance that one day,

the piano embraces herself as a vessel for light, and love.

 

Slowly the piano rebuilds her tune and rhythm.

Note by note she creates new scales,

new symphonies,

a smaller orchestra beginning

where the seeds of life beat to the pulse of her heart and soul

that is all

her own.

 

No longer his hostage.

No longer his property.

 

The piano is free.