I read of this little orchestra of players who made instruments of trash reminded me how God uses strayers like Moses, David, and Johnny Cash recycled their failures into glory. They found a flash or flicker of faith to make a moving story. They gave their flaws to the Fixer.
I see the detritus and lessons of my past a guy whose mind was all over the place who soared, swooped, leveled and crashed was thrown out reaching for second base whose heart was wounded, erratic and hurt but had a treasury of teachers on his path who inspired and encouraged the introvert to use words instead of physics or math.
Yes, words became my friends opened vistas of meaning and learning paid limitless dividends set my curiosity and wonder burning. Fragments of imagination bubbled up like a spring moments of ****** inspiration of darkness and light took wing.
The salve of poetry has brought healing its warm oils and sweet scent delivered me from darker feelings gave me vigor when I was spent gave me drink in the dessert brought me moments of glory in a world of hurt helped me tell my story.
So like those Paraguay players making music from trash from all of life’s layers of flowers and ash I’ve been to the mountain peak and to fertile green places in my true voice I now speak and swim in glorious graces.
You can search the web for: Landfill Harmonic, the “Recycled Orchestra” for videos of “this little orchestra of players” spoken of in my poem or you can go to this webpage: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYbORpgSmjg