“Write a poem that involves music at a ceremony or event of some kind.” (https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-eight-11/)
I wonder nowadays what music
I should play at my father’s
funeral. He’s still very much
alive, healthy and content,
but I wonder, nevertheless.
Morbid to mull over, and
I do my best not to dwell
on it. But still, I wonder.
My father grew up with the
origins of rock ‘n’ roll,
came into adulthood to
the Beatles, Beach Boys,
Simon and Garfunkel, Dylan.
But he was never a musician,
and though he loves his
music, he’s not someone
clearly defined by the music
he loves. My father once
told me: “I wish I could have
made something beautiful.”
I want to play something
beautiful for him, when
the time comes. I have time,
still, to make my decision.
We’ve reached an age, now,
when I worry – just a bit –
every time the phone rings
at unexpected times. I don’t
want that call to ever come.
The time will never be right.
There will never be enough
time. It will always be
too soon. The glory of music
is as much in the ending
as in the song itself:
Music makes endings sweet,
imbues meaning in
the ceasing of time.
John the Librarian 