Poem: Playing the Headless Chicken (Erhu, Chinese Violin)

 

Two strings
dusty and unused
for a very long time.
Not a great quality
they told me
but it should suffice
for someone who is
just starting to play.

What matters to me
is that it is a connection
to who has played
before.
The blood that runs
in my veins
the tunes that used
to float through the air.

It will take me years.
It will take a lot of
practice.
"Headless chicken"
screeching until I
get the bowing
and the fingering
just right.

But the joy is in the journey
In the discovery
and the challenge
I hope my ancestors
smile even if they
might cringe
as I take baby steps
into perfection.