Saturday, June 20, 2009

Concert
for Emmylou Harris

The stars are on the stage tonight. I'm spun out by her sound, the melody entrusting you with its strength; clear, crystal. I love how she tattoos the air with her presence. Her blonde hair getting whiter with years. It floats exquisitely like her voice. Her guitar held as a woman might hold a newborn. The child in me - dancing, humming a song within a nearby "hush!" Her sad story of a soldier dad, telling me its poignant song. Why did I think she meant Jesus? The listen deeper than before. Emmylou, you are better live on stage; someone worth waiting for. Now you pass through our town and I don't want this night to end. It's iron hot in the stadium, and something makes me look up. All your songs drifting into each other. We're walking down a powdery road, the blue line of sky unfolding ahead. I stumble into the first tune. You change my version of Red Dirt Girl to Sweet Old World. I ask for favourites, Boulder to Birmingham, and Heartbreak Hill. She beats out a deluge of rhythm and soul. I'm lost in the breath of her lyrics, the soft rise and fall of her range. This Tennessee girl and I, travelling, walking down a road into graceful tunes of steel. Clouds darken and rise, and we disappear into the valley where city lights quiver as different stars; rain falling, reflecting yellow lines ahead. Just the two of us forming 'o's' on our shimmering lips.

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