Feb. 3, 2019


Haunting melodies, unexpected turns
Tales of our prying eyes
Where they don’t belong
Hoping that kindness will come
The gentle arms of a woman from.

Songs of those who must go on,
Hiding the pain
Of an uncomfortable pebble
In one’s bed, all the while looking perfect,
Trying hard to appeal,
The struggle they say, is real

One who is in love ~
Supported and yet her own self,
Free to fly, never held back
It wasn’t always that way...
Oft times she was crowded
To the back of the shelf

And one, who is destined to her craft
Eternally trapped by her own doing,
Not knowing the outside world..
Her four walls are all she’ll know
Crocheting patterns
She should not be shy to show

While gazing out across the sea,
The moaning vocal line comes to me,
A sacred temple and an ancient bath
These stones have seen milliennia pass
And the sun has set a million times
Casting its glow on humanity
Sharing its warmth in humility

Bring together the words, the notes, the place
And bind it, with rich tones -
A cello, its deeply shined wood and red hue
Created 250 years ago or more
And the artist that brings it to life every day..
My stepfather’s legacy, he’ll lovingly play

Fingers dancing on the keys
Complex rhythms and progressions
This music deserves her talent;
No, it demands her fine musicality,
Her exactness, and brilliant mind
My cousin’s wife, a treasured find.

To those stones I shall return
And bring my voice and haunting refrain
A calling to the Goddesses of old
And a celebration of partnership,
The fellowship of women worldwide,
Heart to heart, forever tied.

Connected by music, by family, by love,
And framed with lasting mortar,
Shards of life fitted together,
Finding our way through the labyrinth...
To the centre of Aria’s Star.

Kira Braun