Concentric Circles

Part 1 the musician

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THE MUSICIAN

Awkward in my skin, I'm a note that doesn't match the key.

I squirm and fidget, look uneasily at unacquainted faces. Eyes stare, calculate, judge. My insides writhe in their gaze.

I itch to get out, long to get away; I don't want to be the source of their fixation.

Why do I want to be here?

Uncertain.

Then there's Indigo...

Certain.

This is a place where I don't belong. It's bigger than me and my trivial problems. Nothing matters except my guitar and the sea of black. They despair; mourn; grieve.

Faces look to the floor; the ceiling; the windows. Anywhere but the object which calls them; the body. Hands clasp, eyes leak, tears drip, voices waver, murmured comforts fade, hearts ache.

Different people, same pain.

Why the same throbbing agony in every tremulous voice I hear? What are my problems compared to this?

Nothing.

But in my simple life they still command attention. Family is the only thing I ever really had.

These jeans are shabby and underdressed. Shoes strike a dark floor, dirty and out of place. The sound reverberates like a snare drum in a hallowed hall.

Why did my song falter then continue, when hers halted half done? Her body is still and soundless. Like trying to read music upside-down, it doesn't make sense. I think she knew...but she wanted to be strong, not just for everyone else, but for herself. She was strong.

Maybe I didn't know her for long, but she didn't deserve this. Maybe I didn't meet her family, but they don't deserve this either.

Is it really the end?

The question blares in my head like some top of the charts pop song replaying on the radio. There has to be more.

Fingers strum chords and lyrics pluck at heart strings. A call and response of emotion resonating around the church.

Bars of light strike through coloured windows. Tears trickle down anonymous faces around me; scale over dimples and freckles and beards and chins. Ragged breath; they gasp, sob, cry. Sorrow flows as they close their eyes and listen. My guitar speaks words which these people can't. As a tear slides from my own eyes I know that a person who has changed so much for others doesn't disappear at 'the end'. They have to be remembered. I'm only here for her; the one person who understood it all.

So I play this song for her and place a single white rose at her coffin.

And promise to remember

Indigo.

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He has nothing, but is willing to give everything he has to offer to be strong for others...but not himself. He holds others up, but what keeps him from falling? He has always been fearless, strong, even reckless. But I know him better than that. I've seen inside. He lives for the stage; and like his performances, sometimes his boldness, his courage, is an act which can only be shown for so long. Sooner or later it has to end, and someone needs to be there when it does. It can't be me anymore.

He says he isn't afraid to fall, but he's not capable of getting up alone.

It's your turn to be strong now, I'm watching over you for a reason. You need not fear being judged, no one here is a stranger to death.

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