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.
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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