Blues For Rafaa

We worked together in the airless cubicle gulag on the surface of the moon during the last ice age Diligently scurrying under the bright artificial lights composing odes to poverty with great purpose and poise Dodging the executive ghouls who skulked the narrow halls Lon Chaney and Boris Karloff howling as the villagers fled But there he would be in a state of perpetual calm absorbing the vortex of chaos a tall black-skinned Buddha Always the one to rise above the daily details and deviations always keeping his balance even with one foot in the air An open and private man I never got to know well some glimpses and peeks but the film never developed Filled with a sly dry humor engaged to illuminate not shame the spark in his dark pupils came from a clarity of heart His was a living credo of resolve of stepping back not rushing forward an involved evolving philosophy in quiet and thoughtful motion I will miss him I will think of him whenever I take a leap and am not sure where to land