The Art of Healing Contest

Healing Me Softly, with Her Song

Driving up the coast

with the top down,

that one song comes on;

the one I love, but don’t truly know.

She joins me for the forward journey,

and in the company of her acoustics

I find myself

cured — from the echo of emptiness.

I start to sing along

with my hand happily tapping and gripping the gearshift—

but then suddenly, and assuredly, 

She grips my hand. Sporting a seductive smile:

She finds the lyrics when I lose my way,

She fills the melody when my breath’s astray,

She hums the harmony when I have more to say,

and even still, as the chorus sways,

She performs

percussion

on the dash

like a pro.

She nods and whispers the bassline home,

though — there are no more notes left to play.

And magically,

She offers a touch treble for my troubles.

Even if the radio were to fail,

She

is still

my song.