Its notes don’t resonate;
They well.
Its strings are liquid, flow
Urgently–.
Strummed, its melody quavers,
Is delicate,
Heard like a lullaby that doesn’t sing to sleep
But to empathy–
If you love,
To empathy.
Copyright 2008, 2012 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.
Michael S Marsters 
Reading this puts me in mind of other poems about harps, especially from Ireland – such as lines by Thomas Moore. But you’ve given the historic theme a new twist and purpose.
(Little query you can delete: did you mean ‘will’ in line 2, or am I missing a subtle point?)
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Never have read Thomas Moore…Guess I should now…
I meant “well” as in tears welling up…not sure how common the phrase is, but that was the reference…
Thank you muchly for the comment 🙂
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Of course: it’s obvious now, and right. How dense of me!
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A sad song of understanding…much enjoyed the reading…
Rachael
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I very much appreciate the sentiment 🙂
Thank you
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Beautifully sad Michael.
I once attended a poetry reading where a harp was being played as background.
It was a wonderful combination
David
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That would be an interesting effect…maybe I ought to do an audio version of this poem…would have to find a harp player first tho…Hmm…
Thank you, David 🙂
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wonderful write!
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Thank you 🙂
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Exquisitely simple and lovely poem. I especially love:
‘Heard like a lullaby that doesn’t sing to sleep
But to empathy–’
(I am listening to harp music right now …)
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Sometimes simple is best…
Thank you, Bardess 🙂
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