Nov 20, 2017 Original Poetry
In Rehearsal
©November 20th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Atoms hold this cup in shape,
In between deep holes of nothingness,
as I sip my steaming tea,
Staring into empty space
Cluttered with things.
The day ended long ago,
But I cherish this silence,
This darkness pressing close
Against the light, where the window
Meets the night air lying in wait.
Today, I read a play, and watched
The actors move in rehearsal
Around each other. Between lines,
They fell through the playwright’s words,
Plummeting into character,
Falling into story-line, pulled into
Punctuation and meaning, living
Words in flesh, finding their pasts,
Breathing life into an old story –
New, still, in fresh discovery,
As I lay at the bottom of a pond,
Watching reflections sway above me.
And yes, I took notes, and yes,
I paid close attention, and yes,
I picked up props, or called out lines.
But the fronds swayed above me,
And the reflections silted down.
I turned, and the dead playwright turned,
Smiling at me. I smiled back, delighted.
I had many questions. I opened my mouth.
He faded away, leaving only an outline.
It was time to breathe.
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Tags: #Chekhov, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Rehearsalforaplay