Chicagoetry: Blues For Allah

Blues for Allah

"What good is spilling blood? It will not grow a thing;
Taste eternity the swords sing: Blues of Allah In 'sh'Allah."

- "Blues for Allah," lyrics Robert Hunter, music Jerry Garcia

Commuting home
From one world to the next,
I watch

The expressway parallel
To my train seat and

Daydream of my favorite
Old god, Osiris.

Not only is he
Lord of the Dead but he's also

Lord of Silence
And Lord

Of Love. He holds two
Golden implements across his heart
(A battered old boiler,

Like mine?), a crook
To steer his flock

And a flail to whip
Wheat from chaff,
Each encrusted

With blood-red rubies,
River-green emeralds and
Sky-blue sapphires, each

Co-opted by the Pharaohs -
Along with ceremonial beards -
As totems of godhead.

Also he commands the moody river.
I feel compassion for his burdens
And thus mine lighten.

The expressway, this highway,
Is a river we accompany, as Osiris
Accompanies the dead

To heaven.
I wish the highway
Was an ocean.

This is a sin,
To be gifted

A river only
To crave an ocean.

There goes another hearse,
Black barque of Anubis, accelerating
Downriver to the cemeteries

On the delta

Of Osiris.
Between the skyscrapers
And headstones

We thrust (bracing
Our boilers), racing
The recurrent hearses, through

The detritus of fallen gods,
Through lilac, rose of sharon, briar and cat tail,
Hurtling west

Toward immaculate sunset.

To the east, skyscrapers
Like glass obelisks

Mark the shoreline
And the stealthy undertow beyond,

Sky-blue buildings
Blending right into the sky!

They seem nearly invisible.
Perhaps that was the idea.

The train rolls on as dusk beards
The cat tails with royal shadow.

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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood's poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.

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