a cork board

AMpMon, 01 Aug 2011 09:34:38 +000034Monday 1, 2010, 9:34 am
Filed under: music, poems, the ether | Tags: , , , , , , ,

We were never made to understand you.
Your eyes, spoke of sadness and longing.
But your voice, spoke in soul and jazz.
And your shoulders, spoke in eulogies and swan songs.
An epitaph of brilliance and rebellion interlaced
with passion and, a portrait of addiction.
An iron-clad middle finger and a white flag,
you couldn’t give a fuck what we thought.
So you did what you could,
and we loved to hate you for it.
That’s what we came to know as,
an enigma continuously contradicting itself
for the cold embrace of shallow highs
that sailed you down a one-way river
with no hope of returning, ever.
We watched you wither away
like a descending sun through a fading sky,
and you slipped back to black.
I wish I could have helped you shake
the clutches of those shadows, Amy.
But addiction is a lonely thing,
a road that leaves us helpless.
It turns us into faceless bystanders
praying for you to make the right choice.
I will never profess to understand
the complexities of addiction.
But I know that it never leaves you; the urge,
the pain that took you there in the first place.
Not everyone deals with plight the same way,
but you, you just kept on running.
We would have laid our hands across
the blades of railroad tracks for you,
if we didn’t enjoy watching you
tear away at your own skin.
If we didn’t enjoy watching you fall
like a drunken man trying  to stand,
we might have offered you a helping hand.
Forgive us for the way we are, Amy.
We do not flee the scene of an accident,
we watch the carnage
until the blood stops running,
until the paramedics stop even trying,
until the show is over.
Now the curtain is pulled …and you’re gone.
I can only hope you find the quietness
that eluded you in life.
You kept giving us reasons to pay attention.
We inflated you with expectations of
Aretha and Billie and Natalie and Nina,
and you never knew how amazing you were;
the fact that you didn’t even have to try
is what made it so special.
No, you just sang
And your pain, sorrow and strength
resonated through the chords in your voice.
Every time you would burst into flames,
the music would pull you
out of the ashes like a phoenix.
That’s where you left us your heart, Amy; in the music.
How we’ll remember you, through the music.
After all of the tabloids and headlines,
all that matters, is the music.
Two albums, five grammys,
the start of the new British invasion,
an inspiration to so many starving artists
and a fingerprint on the chest of every person
who was touched by your music.
I wish we could have watched you rise again , Amy.
Instead I’m sitting here writing this poem,
trying to put my fingers on the pulse
of the life you left behind.
I will make sure my son knows your voice,
to pass you onto future generations.
And I wish you peace, Amy.
Peace you could never find
in this life, as you fade back to black.

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Comment by Stephanie Napier

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