Shades of Blue

The blues come in too many flavors.
Persistent. Hard. They come in music,
in your first cup of coffee, in the sunshine.

They come in love. In loss. In that moment
of silence we use to honor those no longer with us.
They come when least expected,

and never disappoint when they are.
A song. A whiff of perfume.
Just the right color of grey.

The man across from you at the diner
wears your grandfather’s hair.
A glorious white. His voice has a similar rasp.

and just like that, you are fifteen,
a refuge from home. Reminded by him
that no matter what you feel, you are loved.

And just like that, you feel his loss,
twenty five years now and you feel it,
deep, and for a moment consuming.

But just for a moment. You are predisposed
to darkness. To an underlying sadness
fed by a life of loss. You can hardly travel

a mile from home without feeling it,
passing the house of this one who has passed,
or that farm that has closed down.

There is the remains of the country store,
burned to the ground on a February night.
The very air is full of loss.

And somehow, you are still here.
You would not have bet on it two decades ago.
But here you are. A collection of loss,

Alone with your cup of coffee and a window.
There is a lesson in it all. There is always a lesson.
You will survive until you don’t,

until the point where your heart
no longer has the strength
to pick up and learn and go one.

But until then, you will listen to the blues.
You will make music from the different shades
and textures, and live. Truly live,

learning to dance over and over again.
each loss teaching you the value of what is,
including perhaps, yourself.

About this Poem

Inspired by the artwork, which is by Amy Yoes, in a gallery display called “Hot Corners”, now showing at Mass MoCA. It is a fact of either age or depression that I seem to pass by so many things that remind me of what is no longer.

I am a big fan of the blues.

My grandfather really did have the most beautiful white hair. And he showed me an unconditional love that has been the standard I have tried to live by to this day.

I come from a place where I believe everything has a lesson. Even if it takes me a while to learn it.

From that mix, this poem.

Tom