Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Poem For Abbey Lincoln

She walks the night

in blue and black satin

the spirits whispering

softly to her



Don't you hear

the amber and the agony

that pour from her mouth

with every note she sings?

Such wealth is not man made

or the by-product of rugged individualism

it is the blues call in the night



It is the lassoed

harnessed

dispossessed

secrets

of the Universe

cast forth

like a puff of magic

glitter and gold

before your very eyes

Ask the trees

where she came from



Grounded on the earth

but walking in the heavens

with a reach that can inspire

and a voice melifluous that touches

the very heart of humanity.

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