Friday, April 29, 2011

national poetry month

Thought I'd better get this in before it isn't April any more. I think next year, the whole month of April's posts should be in poetry. I'd be pretty proud if I could manage it. This poem I stumbled on searching through my replacement computer after the crash of my favorite but unreliable old one, with all the extra goodies on it that, like a moron, I hadn't backed up. But no. I found nothing else. My more creative writing was pretty much all gone.

This one, however, was in a very old email that was telling the story of how this poem came to be. It was a curious tale, with no poetic justice. The tale does not end well.

I was heading down from the City to a gallery opening of a friend. My girlfriend at the time was driving about an equal distance up. The plan was to meet in the middle and attend the opening together.

While driving, these words in my head came to me unbidden. I turned the radio up so I could concentrate on NPR. But the words in my head got louder too. After about 30 or 40 miles of this, I got sick of the battle between words, gave up, pulled over to the side of the highway — and wrote the persistent little critters down.

Then they allowed me to go back on my way.

When I got to the gallery, she ran up to me.

"An amazing thing happened on my drive up," she said. "I heard this indescribable music in my head. I had to pull over and hum it into the recorder. That's why I'm running late."

Did I mention she was a musician?

So. I got the words. She got the music.

Eventually, we put them together and she recorded the whole bit. The words go:

i am abd-allah — slave of God
you bring me grace — baraka
when i submit--when i surrender —

sweet bondage — sends me to my knees
head hits the ground, my prayers resound
Allah! when i submit

sweet bondage — i can taste you
in ritual splendor, so hard to give up
Nameless One! for the desert

you take my breath away
send me reeling, in peace suspended
Beloved! between heaven and earth

Mother of the Stormy Night
think that you can make it right
as the blade glides into sight?
eyes grow dim, i see the light
Astarte! when i submit

The gallery opening was pretty feh after that. I'm not sure either of us really registered much of the show. The tape she made of words and music was breathtaking. She was working on an album at the time. Very exciting.

But it was her album. And the idea of giving credit for lyrics not her own just was too much for her to bear. She changed some of the words, kept others — and pit'om! a new song emerged for her album. Still very lovely. To tell the truth, I think my words scared her.

Still. For me this was a powerful moment of creative synchronicity. Such moments are rare enough on planet earth, and worth honoring and preserving.

And there it is in black and white — visible for anyone to see. A few hasty lines, scribbled on the side of the highway heading south. Longing to reach out and join with music emerging exactly the same way on the highway north. A miracle!

May all your Aprils be filled with poetry, music, and yes, collaboration.

1 comment:

  1. a powerful moment of creative synchronicity subsumed to copyright laws and cash