Blues*

I love listening to the Blues
The guitar that whimpers with the pangs of heartache
Appears to want to swallow me whole sometimes
Yet other times it drenches me, douses me
Inundates me like a sudden summer shower
And puts out the flames that burn in my heart

The simple music of slaves and sharecroppers
From the cotton fields of the Deep South
No flights of fancy
No towering verses
No scintillating similes
No magnificent metaphors
Only the plaintive wails
Of hopes that were lost
And dreams that were shattered

Sometimes it seems like those twelve bars
Will tear me apart, take away my life
And yet they bring with them the message
Of man’s capacity to suffer and survive

Soon, my melancholy takes flight
Soon, the smile returns to my face
Soon, once again, I become what I am
A very lucky man

3 thoughts on “Blues*

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