Elegy to SRV

I was fourteen

When the sound leaped

From the speakers like flood water

And robbed my heart a beat.

But the same tones

That stopped my pulse

Revived me so to speak in ways

That only legends claim.

Greater than myth,

This was music.

Its powerful, raw intensity

Could conjure storms and rain

And shouts and tears

As ears it pierced

Beheld its volume and its weight.

The presence he achieved

Still shakes my bones

As though fault lines

Meet and erupt beneath my feet

Amidst a hurricane.

While I listened

Landscapes were carved

Across the surface of my mind.

Not just music, this was

Pure, honest blues,

The kind that speaks.

Shaped by tradition, it withstands

The test of time, and lasts.

I needed more,

And more I sought

To hear and see and feel much more.

This drug was in my veins.

And when I heard

Stevie Ray Vaughan

Had in fact strummed his final chord,

I didn’t mourn.  Instead,

I rejoiced that

The six stringer

From Texas could at least live

So close to my own time.