Off Key

The program was thin,

pages falling out,

the kind of thing

that isn't built to last

but has to last

at least one service.

Everyone around me

opened their mouths.

The hymn started,

and I looked down

at the page

where the number should have been,

where I should have

known what to do.

The pages were loose.

The hymn was missing.

I looked up at the words

projected on the screen,

but I couldn't

find my place

in the music,

couldn't make my mouth

form the shape

of what they were singing.

Nobody looked at me.

Nobody said anything.

The silence in my throat

was just mine,

just the space

where my voice

was supposed to go,

just the knowledge

that I was standing

in a room full of people

doing something right

and I was

doing nothing

but pretending

to know the words.

It passed.

The hymn ended.

We sat down.

And nobody ever mentioned

that I didn't sing,

that I stood there

mute,

that I failed

at this one small thing

in front of everyone,

and everyone

was kind enough

not to notice.