To learn to concentrate without effort
and to transform work into play
I need to have and hold a zone of silence
in my soul.
~ from Nan Merrill’s Journals
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips.
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sun to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow.