I’ve been out at Laity Lodge for the past few days interacting with some absolutely incredible folks, talking about renewal through theology, psychology, and business.
One of the people here, Jozef Luptak plays cello like I’ve never heard. The first evening he played a piece from Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 (from the prelude, I think).
I wrote a poem about it.
The Price of Renewal
for Jozef Luptak
The cold hearth may hold fire when the front comes
where the cellist plays. His arms carve the sound,
not for us, not for himself, but just because
the silence must sometimes be filled
with something besides words and squeaking
animals. We hear them by the door, surprised
each time the pinched strings sing
impossibly high. They could be bats or mice,
vermin that incarnate what Bach first said
years ago and again today with a time machine
made from maple and sheep gut and a life
time of learning the skill to speak
and sing and play for the dead.
