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#1 of 2 Old 01-29-2010, 09:03 PM - Thead Starter
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I called you a troubadour
and you laughed.
“I’m more of a Gypsy!”

“Troubadours were aristocrats!
Snobs!” you said.

They didn’t do the traveling,
they didn’t know the road,
they never believed their songs.
Not like you did.

You knew.
Jongleur, minstrel with a vagabond spirit,
You knew.

Tied to your Rawdon and
the very sinews of this land,
yet soaring with your Slavic passion
for life – for love.

You knew.

You were always searching,
seeking the right word,
the one with Meaning and Weight
fit for the precise moment.
Whatever tongue - no matter -
it had to speak to the heart.
It had to sing.

You knew.

And what did you bring
to trade on your journeys?
What tinker’s tools?
What silks and spices to entice
or entrance?

Only this: Your great heart,
your love for home,
your thirst for justice,
your undying hope.
Given away, freely.

You knew.

"Little wolf",
you were no saint,
(Heaven forbid!)
but you brought out the best in us.
You weren’t perfect, no,
but we couldn’t and wouldn’t have had you
any other way.

You once told this nervous father
“You’ll make it up as you go.”

And you?
You made your life a dance,
improvised, of course,
a waltz, a polonaise, a varsovienne.
Who could ever resist your outstretched hand,
your laughing call to come and join you in the dance?

You knew.

It isn’t wine unless it overflows the glass,
spilling everywhere.
It isn’t life unless the heart overflows
with song, with passion, with love.

You knew.

You were taken from us far too soon!
You leave us yearning to share
One more bottle,
One more story,
One more song,
One more laugh,
One more debate,
One more embrace.
Just one more.

But now we must
dance on without your lead,
and live up to your example.

And that is too much to bear, because
you knew,
and we thought you’d always be here
to show us how.

Dear, sweet friend,
I am certain that the troubadour angels
want to sing for you
to serenade you on your way home.
Don’t let them!

I hear that they are aristocrats!
Snobs!
They don’t do the traveling.
They don’t know your road.

I have no doubt that you will want to teach them
how to properly carry a tune,
to sing it with feeling and boisterous abandon.

But for this once, let us sing for you.
Let us sing you home.
And if we can’t bring ourselves to give voice,
if our tears blur the words,
you will hear what is in our hearts.

You know.

Purveyor of Awesome since 1958.

 

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#2 of 2 Old 02-12-2010, 06:15 AM - Thead Starter
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Guillaume "Wilczek" (Little Wolf) Siemienski, killed in the earthquake that devastated Port-au-Prince. His family laid him to rest last week.

Purveyor of Awesome since 1958.

 

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