Letters and Diary Poetry posted April 21, 2016


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a little tribute

Doves Do Cry and They Fly

by michaelcahill


R.I.P.

Doves Do Cry and They Fly
 

Yeah
I knew what you
were trying to say
we all did
we who bleed into our quills
we whose fingers are cut
                to the bone on strings
                trying to find
                                … the sound
 
or lips cracked on some device
                seeking perfect tone
                                or a voice
                                rasping from wear
                                                crying in pain
                                                exulting in joy
 
what do we call ourselves
The Artist
or do we paint a symbol that
no one
                has ever seen before
                                we are unique
                                are we not
 
but Prince will do for you
not the Prince of this
or the Prince of that
 
Just
 
Prince
 
did you want to be loud enough
so the sound would never stop
bright enough
so the light would never go out
 
you did that
 
you showed me
that the color of the rain
is
purple
 
and it falls
from my eyes
 

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Just some words. Godspeed to an amazing talent. The artists of the world are what life is all about.

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