by Charles Hulin
In recognition of the significant contribution of literary friends to this year’s time in Lasker,
I share my reflections on the festival in the form of a poetic remembrance of our opening concert,
Sound and Silence.
I’ve stopped the old clock’s ticking
And I sit at the grand in the warmth of the sanctuary.
Mozart’s Fantasy is on my mind and in the air.
Trying on his hands, I enter and exit silence in Wolfgang’s subtle ways.
With a composer’s mood, Jim skates his bow across the strings.
The cello tones glide into a cove of calm Vaughan Williams charted in his folk music suite.
In the reverberant worship space, Anna’s voice is heard in three full dimensions.
Its mother-earth richness lifts the ink from the page
and the words of the Charter live for those present.
Jeremy’s flute-breathed sounds are compact, brilliant, tense, and clever.
Paula reveals Beethoven: expressive, methodical, and unyielding.
I return to the piano with more Mozart.
Across the room, Kathy and Jeremy listen and play beyond thought or planning.
Aloft on tremolos and scales from the keyboard, my partners’ instincts do the surfing.
They find true ensemble and discover the chamber music of the moment.
Rickey declaims the syllable “be” at the end of his passionate preaching.
The word persists and I realize it is bigger than any sentence.
It is older than the Law
And the way Rickey says it is more personal than a command.
It is an utterance from the God who desires us to be
And who desires us.
Finally we sing the festival hymn.
The organ’s dense sound undergirds the tune
And we all pivot on a prayer word –
“Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!”