88

What glared back at me on that cold January afternoon was 88 motionless keys

It killed me to see them sitting there quietly

How enticing they looked but that didn't matter

The 88 keys weren't made to be looked at, but listened to

As much as my sister hated the keys, I couldn't resist

My heart craved to hear what the keys had to say

All 88 of them pulled me in and forced my hands to play with them

With no song in mind, the keys took control

Soon my eyes gave in as the music blanketed my sight with darkness

The melody didn't matter

Simply sound

For that one moment my senses all shut off

But the keys' awakening sound opened my ears

I could hear the incongruous harmonies

The mellifluous discordances

The 88 taught me more than any textbook or teacher could

And for the first time, I realized different is beautiful

Amongst all the judgement and stereotypes, there's diversity

Beautiful diversity

To the weird ones

The bizarre

The crazies

The misfits

We're lucky

Without us the world would be boring

And though I learned this late in life

I'm happy I finally did

Thanks to the 88

Comments

jwiener

I love how you celebrate differences in this poem, and make note of how different doesn't mean wrong, but instead, it is beautiful. My favorite line is definitely the juxtaposition in "I could hear the incongruous harmonies" because you imply that just because something doesn't make sense doesn't mean that it can't work. Have you ever thought of putting this poem to music- maybe a song you wrote? I think that would be really cool. Check out how to make a multimedia poem in the Resources section! 

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