A Stranger Whispered in My Ear

Imogene’s Notebook

A Stranger Whispered in My Ear

I went down into the valley
because I heard that’s where
you go to strike a deal
when you have nothing to deal with.
Deeper down because I heard
a fragment of a poem
then another, second verse
whispered in a collier’s ear.

Listen closely,
said the shadow,
leaning close
so none could hear.
Then we brushed shoulders
in passing.
The collier went home
and slept all summer.

I strained to see
the shaded one
whose face was made of shapes
strung together, sewn up.
He beckoned me
to sit beside him
and listen to the music
that played across the woods.

I felt his lips brush my ear
before the melody was joined
by verses.
He told me this story
of a time before music
when the first chords were struck
and the skies opened up
and a gift rained down
upon men.

He said this:
A stranger whispered in my ear
a song I’d never heard before
made up of mismatched melodies
strung together in a patchwork
of voices and light.
He whispered in my foreign ear
a song that gathered white and blue
and sang until I sang along
and saw what we were singing to.

I left the valley and slept all summer
dreaming between wishes
that I had a hand to deal again.
When I awoke the sky was open
and the world under my feet aflame.
The burning of my past revealed
a singed melody I’d sing today,
and as I skipped into the water
and shed my plights
I picked up notes
of green still living under flames.

I whispered in a stranger’s ear
a song that bound up green and red
and sang until the stranger knew
the life that swished inside his head.

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