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
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