METRONOME

It ticks , ticks , ticks like a clock

          I am nine and I know

it demands something 

          but what ? am I suppose to rush to do ?

It sits on the piano

     and demands my attention

but my attention has long since gone elsewhere

          at three I would have listened

          my fingers would have danced to its beat

but I’m now nine and the time

         that has demanded my attention

has been filled with distance , distrust

     abuse , and the insistence of law

do this , don’t do that , don’t talk

     don’t run , just walk

absolutely absolutely DON’T TALK

          at three I heard the music

                    at nine music no longer exists

in my life , only for those who could hear it 

in my life the tick tick tick

     means far more than rhythm

it means if I don’t get this something 

done RIGHT NOW I can expect something

                   very unpleasant 

Here that tick means time 

          and what must “get” accomplished

no rhythm and it’s glorious dance 

          a poetry of tones

          a dance of resonance 

like the clear ripples in a pond

and one note , one stone  , can move

          everything in it’s path

But life here is one solid stone wall

          unmovable , cold , stone

nothing I know at this age 

          can transform stone

          into a resonating energy

that can complete the cosmos I live in

          So , yes I had one recital 

and rejected the metronomes influence

          timing may be everything

But I am human

          and I must account for it

                at my own speed

Nov 2014 C Michael Miller

Poetry of Providence