A while back during a writing class I was challenged to re-write a myth. Any myth. In any form.
I must have read twenty or more myths before I came across the “Creation of the Violin,” on Wikipedia no less. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Creation_of_the_Violin But this was literally the only one I felt connected to in any way. I related to the disparity of poverty and wealth, sorrow and joy, longing and fulfillment. I felt the connectivity to all humanity, and as a singer and lover of music, the power of a song is not lost on me. As I wrote, I was able to sense the emotions from the boy’s perspective. While I don’t see it as anything spectacular, I really enjoyed writing this poem.
The Creation of the Violin – Revisited
By Regina Cyzick Harlow
She longed for me, my mother did
To hold her baby flesh and blood
When I was born into this life
She fell ill and shortly died
I lived without her twenty years
I cried ten thousand bitter tears
But I went off to find my love
Guided by mother’s hand above
I came across a palace grand
A rich king with a daughter’s hand
Men had tried the world around
To win his daughter and his crown
I trembled low before His Honor
What must I do to court your daughter?
He cursed at me and bellowed loud
And threw me in the dungeon crude
Foolish boy, I thought aloud
For I am just a peasant’s child
What right have I to royalty
A beggar’s life is fit for me
Doom, despair, despondency
My self-fulfilling prophecy
Poverty is all I know
Crept it’s way into my soul
Light pierced through the dungeon black
A Fairy Queen, and from her back
She took a box and rod of wood
In my hands she placed the goods
I plucked some hairs from off her head
And strung them o’re the box and rod
I tucked the box beneath my chin
And touched the bow upon the string
As music filled the dungeon chamber
Fairy Queen was filled with laughter
Then as I slowed the bow and string
Tears became her offering
I felt a surge within my soul
Another language took control
Tears and laughter came and went
Evoked by my own instrument
Into the box and rod I poured
My lonely tears my childhood joys
My mother’s longing and her death
The odds of poverty and wealth
The chorus of ten thousand others
Joined the song across the ages
Haunting voices throughout history
From the future, still a mystery
Hope, despair, joy, and sorrow
Amalgamated and crescendoed
When at last I took a rest
I could hardly catch my breath
We had no words, the queen and I
No cheers to laugh no tears to cry
The song transcended any language
Gave voice to my deepest anguish
I sat once more before the king
Touched again the box and string
Moved by the magic of the music
King gave his daughter to this peasant
Happily, our ever after
Peasants, Royalty, together
Joined in song by box and string
Creation of the violin
Inspired Ramblings 