La Marimba

Essay by PaperNerd ContributorHigh School, 12th grade October 2001

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Pablo Leon De Paz 09/27/01 English OAC La Marimba In the heart of the village, where the volcano's eyes look straight down to find the seed of a melody, stood a wooden instrument that represented home, family and culture. La Marimba was playing a soft sound of joy, heart touching to the spirit. Its music and sound were so profound that they gave freedom to my soul and emancipation to my mind.

It was been played by the natives of the land, indians with rubber core mallets. La Marimba's sound was so beautiful that birds in the trees started to sing and dance to the music. The green grass danced with the wind and the flowers opened their ears to hear the music. The blue sky was clear and the sun was shinning on the Marimba and the indians playing it. It was a picture of home in a frame of culture, it represented the land and the people.

I was in a journey of magic that opened my heart to the rhythm of life, it was a moment of peace. The land's nature was singing to me, it seemed like if the music wasn't just coming from the tuned percussion instrument but from the homeland and its sacred soil. As the Indians started to rush the tone, a last mallet hit the bars and silence began. Trees stopped moving, the grass stopped dancing, birds stopped singing and myself, I stopped breathing. But after a short second that almost ended my peaceful journey, all mallets hit the wooden bars and the tube resonators brought out a sound that was even greater than before's. The indians hands were doing something unique, they were building harmony throughout the land and throughout every person's spirit that could hear the sound. I stood...

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