a starry-eyed girl
began the uphill climb
to learn, with her half-sized instrument in hand,
the impossible stance -
barely scraping the surface
of a craft so refined
like an infant falls countless times
before taking its first steps,
many times i fell and cried as well.
cramped fingers, arms and brain
through half-hour-long lessons
that felt like whole days
after years of frustration and determination
came the very first breakthrough,
though almost unnoticed:
out came a sound worth listening to.
i could finally make the piece of wood sing -
no longer a box, it was a violin.
from then on, i grew. a lot changes as time flies.
the more i learn, the more i realise
that i’m still that girl with stars in her eyes -
further than ever from completing the climb.
one step forward,
fall two steps back,
back to a child walking for the first time.
each practice, my playing confirms that i am
a stain on the fabric of the flawless craft
but i love it anyway -
perfection was never my goal.
im no virtuoso, but even so,
i’ve grown close to the fingerboard, chinrest and bow.
though making progress is painful and slow,
the violin and its quirks are what i call home.