My strings had just seemed to stabilize
hovering comfortably close to unwavering perfect fifths.
Small daily adjustments were only needed
to bring me back to concert pitch. For forty
years it seems, I’d struggled for this balance,
these firmly gripping pegs within my mind.
My song with newly tempered assurance
left shrieking flexibility behind.

That was before the world shifted, stretched and snapped.

So here I sit firmly grasping my shoulders, my neck
unwinding yesterday and seeking to thread
new ways of life through tiny holes carved in times past.
I stretch myself and expand my fibers
as I grasp for some new tuneful balance,
but these days only pull me tighter.

So I let slip the tension
and listen in silence
eyes closed
ears open
and I wait
for the rippling waves of a new horizon.

The prompt from Day One of NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo was to write a self-portrait in which you make a specific action a metaphor for your life – an action that isn’t typically done all the time.