by Sabine Brigette
I played
Bach’s Partita No. 2 in D Minor, Ciaccona
to allure myself
as I drove to your house
away from noticing
wanting again
Oh, Ciaccona
along my ribs
only made it worse
when you said
the words you did
that maybe
this was
perhaps
the
beginning
of
Oh, Ciaccona,
Partita
No. 2
Bach
hold me up
please
before what he is
reaches beneath my ribs
D Minor
hold your own
loudly
horse hair on silver
sew quickly the gaps that remain
but Ciaccona
off like a scarf carelessly put
before the pauses
of quiet breath
between
your
words
that no determined genius
no symmetrical sound
no mathematical string and needle
could keep me from noticing
that now I
want only
to call you
Ciaccona.
-----------------
I wrote this a few months back with its main point being to question trepidation over determined gaze & timing. Warding off attachments and pull, anything that might distract from this determined arc to Oxford seemed at some point worth investing thought into. But today, as is my perpetual pattern, I fall back without looking, into sweet emotion & into my warm embedment in this place of Whitefish....& yet the determined gaze double helixes with deep feeling beautifully. So that now I want only to call this beautiful human range of being, Ciaccona, as I board the plane. Listen to song no. 5 (the Ciaccona of the partita) if you get a cd in the mail from me. & please, dear friends, tell me of your own ciacconas. I can only hope that life will always be so richly tugging as it feels right now & I'd love to hear of the ways in which yours are.
-----------------
I wrote this a few months back with its main point being to question trepidation over determined gaze & timing. Warding off attachments and pull, anything that might distract from this determined arc to Oxford seemed at some point worth investing thought into. But today, as is my perpetual pattern, I fall back without looking, into sweet emotion & into my warm embedment in this place of Whitefish....& yet the determined gaze double helixes with deep feeling beautifully. So that now I want only to call this beautiful human range of being, Ciaccona, as I board the plane. Listen to song no. 5 (the Ciaccona of the partita) if you get a cd in the mail from me. & please, dear friends, tell me of your own ciacconas. I can only hope that life will always be so richly tugging as it feels right now & I'd love to hear of the ways in which yours are.
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