A Play for Rob and Larry

Scene – After clearing spider webs away, a Human is sitting on a dock looking over a suburban lake, drone of Interstate traffic too far away to intrude. Warmth of the summer’s day is gradually dispersed by a Northerly breeze.
Backstory – Two men I have made music with have, or are about to, breathe their last on this plane and no poem or postcard can reach them in their new state.

Act (the only and only)
A gentle but insistent wind blows right to left – towards True North.

[Wind] As you cannot see me but only feel my effects, so are you to your departing brothers.

[Silent pause to show blowing of leaves and perhaps a scarf]

[Lake] Wind, you may ripple my surface, but my secrets have settled to safety in my mud. Many bodies slumber here – turtle, snake, fish, clams and the cremated remains of human friends who have gone on.

[Wind] Only gravity grants you your existence, whereas I am impelled by heat and cold, making currents out of nothing.

[Lake] Ah, as do my currents, but in a slower rhythm within my fluid medium.

[Human, rising to stand] As above, so below.

[Wind increases and ripples march faster across the water]

[Human] Both Wind and Lake are welcome here, and both remind me of just how fleeting this life can be. My fellow travelers once could feel your caresses on their skin, and could sing your praises in their own unique ways. Now, released from their fleshy form, they can caress us as wind, as water, as Spirit, in any moment when we care enough to tune in.

[Offstage, toning begins, imperceptible at first, gets louder as Human looks around for its source.]

[Human, confused at first, looks around for an explanation, something rational. Instead falls into acceptance of the tonal mystery, and, with a contented expression, crouches, perhaps even kneels, on the dock. Then begins to join in the toning, “Om.”]

The volume of the toning gradually gets louder. Human stands, arms slowly rising towards Heaven. Light slowly increases in intensity until the brightness dissolves everything into Oneness. At the peak of brightness, the toning stops, with its echoes reverberating for an extended fade out.
No curtain needed.


Blaise Kielar received Honorable Mention in the 2022 Alex Albright Creative Nonfiction Prize for an excerpt from his memoir in progress, "Be Heard: The Quiet Kid Who Started the World’s Loudest Violin Shop." He opened Chapel Hill’s first violin shop in 1978 and retired from a music retail career by transitioning Electric Violin Shop into the first worker-owned co-op music store in the United States. He plays jazz violin and clarinet in several bands and leads the Bulltown Strutters, Durham’s community New Orleans brass band.