Lousiana Red 1978 | Photo: Mark Weber
A black wall. His fears standing
against him.
No breath blows the barrier down.
No shouts, push, pull hide the anger.
a
But when he sings….
a
He sings the strength of trees falling,
owning the space where they lie.
His sound hammers the air,
framing rooms on the stage of
his mind.
a
And when he owns the jazz….
a
The jazz tears the colors separate.
Faces smile alike. Legs with dance
soul dip;
knees bend the travel of healing.
a
Walls bow to the strength of
his songs.