Micrograffiti: Morning Song by Alex Colburn19/01/2011
She sings for many things. For instance, the pleasure she gets from trying to understand her family. What remains of it. Her father, his gruff ways, walking in the morning before opening his shop, shuffling towards the newsstand on the corner, shaking the change in his pockets, voice thickly accented by cigarette and business-savvy. Her brother, leaping from his mattress, up with their father, grasping at his shoes while running downstairs to the storeroom. Perhaps to steal and smoke one of those yellow cigarettes (Gauloises maybe), learning to be business savvy?
From the radio downstairs soft voices in harmony. She, in the middle of her room, hands and face washed, strumming the pleats of her mother’s dress. Eyes closed, singing for her life still and softly, imagining those leaning giants of the forest and earth somewhere out there, here maybe, possessing a magnificent strength. A natural, timeless strength.
She moves to her window overlooking the street, her loving hands humming along, pulling the shade open to the sun shining her room and her face with life-force and silent song.
Alex Colburn can read, write, listen and talk. Just don’t ask him to sing anything.