Trobairitz

and with what felt like breath

for the first time entering my lungs

I opened my mouth

and song came from me

I let the breath escape

from places hidden deep

and let the words come forth

as never heard before

I am alive and kicking

a pulse is driving me

a heartbeat accompanying

the introductory lines

this is quick becoming a symphony

from a simply strummed chord

she, the muse, conducting me

calling me to sing

my lungs are like a bullhorn

bursting out in blasts

voice taking on a power

that I may never have conveyed

my throat is filled with honey

and sandpaper’s scratchy edge

just enough to reach

the hair on the back of your neck

my words are like gemstones

that have been locked away inside

and she holds the key

and wants to see the shine

she polishes the surface

in simple graceful strokes

then holds them to the light

and lets them shine on their own

I can’t contain this passion

this need, this aching want

and my wailing song is heard

through walls of solid stone

she said, ‘I have a Troubadour’

to this I simply smile

and strum the chords of her

my harmony she sings

my offering, my heart and soul

courting you as such

your Trobairitz, I come to you

and offer you myself

*written in 2014 but for some odd reason I never posted this piece*


*The trobairitz (Occitan pronunciation: [tɾuβajˈɾits]) were Occitan female troubadours of the 12th and 13th centuries, active from around 1170 to approximately 1260. Trobairitz is both singular and plural.*