Orchestrated

At the worst times In the darkest possible night, When the shadows creep And the winds howl The deep dark orchestrates a song. And I would like to think That the devil doesn’t fiddle But he sits first chair. I noticed the band of demons, And my soul was scared. I didn’t notice the conductor. And I barely heard the song Bawled up in the corner I cried and cried. I didn’t notice the spirit, But I felt the gentle nudge. My hand was firmly gripped. As I was led to the stage. I wasn’t handed a violin, viola, cello or bass, There was no chair for me to sit. Just one empty spot And it was on center stage Where I was handed the baton Instead of knowing the song The sheet was blank; And the light came on. Hurt took the piano And aggravation the violin Broken picked up the microphone And the song of repression began. Its not the song I wanted to play And its not the song I wanted to hear! But they were my best players And their music my worst fears. I would have rather hear love on the piano, And ease on the violin, I wanted a happy story Where a happily ever after could begin. At the worst times In the darkest possible night, When the shadows creep And the winds howl The deep dark orchestrates a song. It is up to me to hand out the music And up to me to count out the beat It is up to me kick the devil out of the first seat. I wrote the beginnings of this poem this spring when my youngest daughter moved into the house with my husband's sister. It was so painful. I finished the poem this fall. 10/13/2018