The Backporch Review 2022

The Dusty Guitar
By Vaida Yesse, 12
The guitar that once brought peace to the family
Would collect dust in the closet for years
The picks would miss the grooves of the strings
And the fingers turned to ash
As it sat there, the peace would fade away
The glue that held the family together
Was now cracked and dried up
We all fell apart slowly but surely
We all thought the acoustics
Were gone forever
Until the day the chords were played again
Not by my grandfather’s hands
But by the young hands of my brother
Who picked up the old guitar, not knowing who it belonged to
It was too big for his body
Yet he played it so well
At that moment I knew
A small piece of my grandfather was born again with my brother
That same guitar brought some peace to the family once again
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