Here I am, standing backstage.
Nervousness pumping through my veins. Along with excitement.
This is it, this is my night.
I stand, waiting for my turn.
The curtain rises, the light shining on me.
I step to the middle stage and take a breath.
I pull the violin to my shoulder to position it for starting.
I bring the bow to the string, a second before striking.
I slide it on the strings, back and forth.
Up and down.
The music filling the hall, drawing smiles all around me.
My heart has stopped beating so fast, and now beats in rhythm.
Slow. Fast. Slow. Up. Down. Back. Forth.
As the bow rides the strings and makes the melodious sounds.
It does not feel like I have control, my fingers sliding so naturally.
Like I have been doing this piece, my whole life.
Slowly, others join in.
First one, then three, then six, then all.
We play loudly but beautifully, we play nervously. But proudly.
We are the violins, We are the voice of the strings.
Nervousness pumping through my veins. Along with excitement.
This is it, this is my night.
I stand, waiting for my turn.
The curtain rises, the light shining on me.
I step to the middle stage and take a breath.
I pull the violin to my shoulder to position it for starting.
I bring the bow to the string, a second before striking.
I slide it on the strings, back and forth.
Up and down.
The music filling the hall, drawing smiles all around me.
My heart has stopped beating so fast, and now beats in rhythm.
Slow. Fast. Slow. Up. Down. Back. Forth.
As the bow rides the strings and makes the melodious sounds.
It does not feel like I have control, my fingers sliding so naturally.
Like I have been doing this piece, my whole life.
Slowly, others join in.
First one, then three, then six, then all.
We play loudly but beautifully, we play nervously. But proudly.
We are the violins, We are the voice of the strings.
..or be unwound?
