Alayna Reid
Poetry Editor
Is there ever a moment where the 5 senses are not enough?
The answer to this paradox comes whenever I’m in choir,
Hearing our swelling voices as we find perfect harmony with each other.
Feeling the air around me pulsate with energy while
Watching the conductors direct our tones and rhythms.
Smelling the old paper of our sheet music and
Tasting the water on my tongue during a break in the rehearsal.
It is never enough.
I want to inject the measures into my veins,
to engrave the notes into my soul,
To be filled entirely by ballads, hymns, and requiems.
The music tries to make its way under my skin, into my being,
just to relieve me of this tension, but all that can be done is to
imagine myself as the beat that pulses all of our hearts into rhythm.