Wednesday, December 16, 2009

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 51)

this piece came to me as i was watching the now-ubiquitous (to me, anyway) videos of you in performance... 1975; you turned 17 that year. your crown shining, as you floated past your siblings... as i watched you i struggled with my anger as i reflected upon my own past, my gaze simultaneously filled with wonderment at your utter beauty. the only word i could think of, is 'perfection'.

in the end, your looks don't matter (particularly since you'd never be 17 forever, and besides, true beauty transcends physical form) but i must stop to celebrate the poetry of your... of that moment, ceased in time on a relic. within all the words i have written thus far, i find myself to be speechless. just read the piece, my teacher. it's actually the first piece i recall writing in about 4 years.

(note: this was finished at 8:17 am on 15 december 2009)

is what i have learned from you
and what i am to continue to learn
as i watch you spin
i marvel at how
could create anyone so perfect
simultaneously acknowledging that no one
actually is
your large brown eyes
so deep
and your features
so strong as
the ocean where some of your ancestors
were perhaps

as you effortlessly spin i give in to the urge
to marvel at your perfection
i ask how GOD could create a being
a graceful swan emerging from the throes of
head thrown back in ecstasy of the
passion play of an evening's

your vibrato quakes my spine and moves to my insides
as you sing about love
and loneliness
as if someone so perfect
could be so lonely.
you take me to places i should
imagine going
who am i to think i could reach you
when the oasis is broken
with GOD'S cruel jokes
of blemishes
getting caught in a microphone cord
a parent to say that your perfection is

and as i watch you gracefully glide across the floor
i angrily question how someone can challenge your
how a man from whose seed you were born
could make such remarks

then i return to what you have taught me.

your humble student,