Nocturnal Notes
An Ode to My Guitar
On any given night I can be found
meditating through strings of nickel-wound.
Through 22 frets my fingers do not simply glide.
Rather, they dance along the rosewood, as I close my eyes.
For with my eyes, I can only see,
not what I feel and play through thee.
The pain I feel flows through the chords
to express all the unexplainable, which I internally hoard.
I always lose myself as I begin to play.
It’s as if, with each strum, I find what I could never say.
In events unsettled inside of me,
I express through each and every melody.
I have learned through you, it is not good to hide.
I don’t shy when I play, I don’t keep feelings inside.
What is expressed may be dark, but that’s okay with me.
Because, with each strum, I am creating my perfect therapy.
Through all of my traumas, you have been there. I’ve never been alone.
I have always found comfort and peace in your sweet but strong acoustic tone.
To many, you are simply six strings attached to a structure of wood.
To me, you are much more; a finely-tuned tool to ingrain all that is good.
I could never thank you, for all that you’ve done for me.
You’ve been there when no one else has, I hear and feel your company.
I rub the calluses on the tips of my fingers, and I feel it in my heart,
knowing that I always have a piece of you, even when we’re apart.
I hope that long after I’m gone, my songs will be played
as to be remembered eternally and to help with others’ dismay.
You have brought me such peace and joy, and given me a way to express.
I communicate through you to others, when I am in duress.
Where my words fail, you always speak for me,
a universal language so all can understand the deepest parts of me.
I am forever grateful for you, my inanimate friend.
I will hold you and strum you, as I sing, right up until the very end.
