This, my 9th trisect poem, is inspired by my experience of learning to play the bansuri flute. I have a long way to go still, but people no longer run for the hills when I play, which I hope means I’m getting better.
Segment one depicts the bansuri flute itself, by way of its origin and construction. Segment two depicts breath, without which the bansuri is just a piece of wood. Segment three depicts my process of learning to play.
Exhale
Reed
Shoots reach forth and crack the earth
with nodes that telescope into the air
until green blades dance out and sway against the sky
A column falls before the saw
drifting like a feather through its peers
which lean and separate with rustle whisk and clack
until the parted clone lies cradled lightly in their midst
Hollow sections lose their green
hardened by the touch of open flame
until the thin walls cure to caramel colored hues
Blemishes are smoothed away
a plug is set with delicate precision
bores probe and burn with care an empty space inside
until the slightest sigh sends echoes coursing through the wood
Motion
Ribs expand like gaping jaws
and current rushes through a maze of tubes
to fuse with membranes hidden deep within the shell
Rivers churn within their walls
cycled through an all pervasive flow
from channels of aeration through rapids fraught with force
to many-fingered deltas strewn across half-charted planes
Bones contract a casual grip
and moisture dissipates into the air
to mingle with a stream of circumscribing winds
rained in far-flung alpine lakes
absorbed by rolling seas of desert sand
and perspired from the leaves of oaks and conifers
to drizzle dew on blades of grass half a world away
Ambience
Fingers dance on shades of brown
as whispers vibrate down a narrow shaft
in waves that slowly learn their resonance and form
Night after night uncertain sounds
gather confidence beneath the moon
phasing with the silhouettes of cherry trees
in movements half remembered from a long forgotten age
Expression gradually finds its way
to sagebrush valleys ponderosa peaks
in subtle overtones that grow in strength until
timbres weave through redwood trees
like whale song steeped in oceanic gloom
resounding off sheer outcrops covered thick with moss
in undertones that settle like a mist among the ferns