two voices lift a song,
but they do not harmonize
the notes clatter
ping off the other
each reaching for me to hum along
one song has sharps, stuttering rests
endlessly played demisemihemidemisemiquavers
punctuated crescendos that raise the noise to unendurable volumes
leaving me writhing in sorrow, shame and confusion
the other song was started before my birth
it is soft like the trees shaking loose their dew onto porch shingles
it does not compete with the other or manipulate my attention
but it is relentless
longsuffering
patient
kind
its tune carries my self, a rhythmic repeat of the shape of me
it is this tune that I reach my hands up to grasp
I listen for it even as the second songs raises its tempo in an attempt to drown
When I sing along with the kind song, I have won
that moment
that day
or maybe this week
