“A Letter From Your Guitar” Inspired by a frustrated student by Katrina Curtiss

I am a piece of wood, carved by man into a shape that rests upon your lap, close to your heart. At first, I was part of a tree, rooted in place, passed by, by man rarely noticed. Then one day, I was chopped, laying useless upon the ground. I thought this was the end, the end of my natural life, the end of being home to the earth, surely all was lost.

I was hauled off to a factory, where my brothers and sisters were being made into chairs, tables, dressers and drawers. This, I sadly thought is my fate, to be once again rooted in place, rarely noticed by man. Until, a man with gentle hands noticed me, he took me into his arms and carried me away. When we were alone, he began to carve me into a beautiful shape, carefully rounded edges, intricately carved headstock. He would often hold me at arms length and sigh with contentment.

How I loved this man, like the sun which made me grow, the ground that kept me fed, he was my father. Until one day, he sent me away into a world that was foreign and frightening. Many strange men roughly handled me; they would grab me and beat me with abandon. My life seemed once again, useless, until the day you took me into your arms. Suddenly, I felt the sun, the earth, I felt home.

I love when you spend time with me, I can feel your heartbeat, the gentleness of your fingers. With wild anticipation, I await our time together, for you bring me to life.

My wish for you is that you could feel my love and gratitude love for you, I rejoice in your achievements, large and small. I see you sometimes look at me with frustration, perhaps thinking that I am a lion in wait. I lived my life in wait for you, for your touch, for your kindness. Please pick me up and know that it took a lifetime for me to be found by you and only you.

As you struggle with me, please be patient, as I was in my maker’s hands, have faith that soon, you will join me in the beauty of just being. Stop thinking so much about playing me perfectly, just play me, and allow me to sing. Sit with me beneath one of my brothers and allow them to dream the dream of being me, resting upon your lap, close to your heart.

Much Love Always, your Guitar

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