The Ivory Touch

 

One of the greatest gifts my parents ever gave me was the gift of music.

They invested in an intangible wonder - investing their time, money, and energy in giving me an outlet to the emotions in my soul.  

From the time I was 7, I've labored over ivory keys trying to make the rhythm and rhyme of song flow forth with ease and emotion.  

For years, spare moments would find me at my piano.

I always found that as I played, the worries and stresses of my life would melt away. 

Playing piano was a solace - as King David's harp.

These past few months, I've missed my instrument - an heirloom gift that belonged to my Grandma Fran which always connecting me to her in my soul. 

Though I never met her, I always felt a little closer to her as I played the keys I know she played. 

The other day, I got a few moments alone to express myself in song on piano, 

and the phrase "The Ivory Touch" came to me. . . and I knew I had the starts of a new poem. 

Later that night - the rest of the poem came too. 

Praise God for the gift of music which is only a shadow of the praise we will give Him for all eternity.

__________________________

Reaching out I feel

The familiar coolness of the keys 

Smooth and white 

Interwoven with black 

It is the Ivory Touch.

Inside me emotions range 

From softest hush to loudest rage 

Pressing the keys, out they pour

From inside my soul’s deep store.

All the pain and all the loss

All the joy come forth 

As note and chord their rupture bring 

As my mind makes my fingers sing.

This is the Ivory Touch,

Not that I touch thee-

But that in touching each key

The music touches me.