His violin cries out

And I recognize the story

Surely both his and mine

Since he is the composer

And I am the witness

To words traveling on air

Leading along a

Parallel path

Our stories the same

Yet never converge

Except in the pinpoint perspective

Dotting the horizon’s line

Of darkened unreality

Never will we meet

Me and the man

Whose sweet-scented melody

Searches elsewhere…


Music so sad

Yet not grief-stricken

Because it is not like anything happened

To make the loss great

Can we lose what we never had?

Can we lose an idea?

But poignancy predominates

Through the song

The coda

Says it all

Change bringing hope

Like the click of a camera

Sending the previous sadness

Into the past

Into an unreality

And a future picture

Creates something amorphous

A not-yet-realized


Perhaps hope will be

Another future photograph…


But the sound, the sound!

Like the crackle of a

Robert Johnson recording

On a vinyl disk

Adding antique shades of life

Existing back then in

Sweltering Southern heat

And the performer

No less excited

To be recording

Than The Beatles

Forty years later or

Any hip hop artist

Another 40 years into

That future

Even the most despondent


Like Roses and Love

Seems to have

A touch of hope

Hidden in the beauty

Of the notes…


© 2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Madi painting 2