Every instrument gives pain.
The violinist’s neck – left, left.
The oboe player’s lips buzzing.
The cellist’s back hunched over
glossy carved wood.
We play to give away
one holy moment
from inside the music.
Sore fingertips play lake songs
on a cigarbox ukulele.
– poem and illustration by Mary MacGowan
Songs for the Pure of Heart 
we play (or sing) to give away one holy moment–love this, mary. i feel this when i sing–for me it is to be in touch with that holy moment, to channel it through my human form into the world.
i think as music comes through us, it comes to us as well. this is so lovely, mm!
Yeah I agree with this. I’ve said this before but I think your illustrations are absolutely gorgeous!
gorgeous, wow, what a big word! thank you
yes, to both of you wonderful friends, yes!