"To the Poet, Too Soon" (Bob Ambrose, Jr.)

"To the Poet, Too Soon"
(Bob Ambrose)

On the passing of Aralee Strange, founder and host 

of the Athens Word of Mouth open poetry community,

June 15, 2013 at her home, "Timberdance"

Athens, Georgia

July 3, 2013

Oh, there will be words

Ms. Strange, not soon enough

there will be words –

Like all we love you left

too soon with sober words

of ‘splainin’ due, remembered

Words will conjure you

from some place primeval

where priestess holds court

Where rhythms take form

your spirit reborn as sirens sing

in sotto voice, the Sibyl raves

A praise to Gaia, long-mute furies

chant in tongues, and fiery nuns

rap truth to knaves. Yet none

Can name the kind of faith

that rocked your soul

in the bosom of Timberdance.

But it was a kind faith

that rolled through your late years,

submerging self to nurture words

In perfect strangers. Though

“Saint Strange” might strike the mind

as if ironic, I could cite

A sermonette, a sign or two,

a miracle, a lightening cure

to make your case for sainthood queue –

Does community count? Does soul 

suffice? Do street-tough hombres say 

their love in front of strangers?

Authentic poets never die,

they just transcend. Their words

become their epithath

Their thoughts a meme,

their spirits, muse. Unburdened

of body returned to the source,

To the place beyond words

where they go to be born,  

your essence awaits

In the first spring breeze

        that warms midwinter;

In the cool burst before the storm

        that breaks a drought;

In rock-strewn shoals that shatter

        flow, restoring rivers;

In early murmurs waking soul

        bestowing shivers. 

A brief note, held sweet

                against silence

echoes forever

        cathedrals of grace.

"To the Poet, Too Soon" by Bob Ambrose was originally performed at Word of Mouth, Athens, GA and appears online at the poet's blog. (Photo of Aralee Strange at Hendershot's, 2013.)