Music is Music! Part III: Jazz (Throw It Away)

This is the third part of a five part "Music is Music" series celebrating diversity in music.  In the first part we discussed interpretations of two standards; the second part analyzed three versions of an Afro-American Gospel classic.  Before turning to a classical piece, we will now present interpretations of a wonderful song written by the outstanding jazz vocalist, Abbey Lincoln. The name of the song is "Throw It Away!"

THROW IT AWAY!

Every summer a series of jazz concerts is given in the sculpture garden of the Baltimore Museum of Art.  The performances are nearly always first-rate and present a wide variety of jazz musicians; my wife and I rarely miss the chance to sit by a reflection pool in the garden while listening to cool sounds on a warm evening.

On August 11, 2011, we attended a performance by the renowned jazz singer, Jackie Ryan.  One of the songs she sang touched me to the quick.  It has been part of my inner repertoire ever since.  The song was written by Abbey Lincoln.  We will discuss in turn Ms. Lincoln's and Ms. Ryan's interpretations of this song.  First let's turn our attention to the lyrics.

Throw It Away

I think about the life I live
A figure made of clay
And think about the things I lost
The things I gave away

And when I'm in a certain mood
I search the halls and look
One night I found these magic words
In a magic book:

Throw it away
Throw it away
Give your love, live your life
Each and every day

And keep your hand wide open
Let the sun shine through
'Cause you can never lose a thing
If it belongs to you

There's a hand to rock the cradle
And a hand to help us stand
With a gentle kind of motion
As it moves across the land

And the hand's unclenched and open
Gifts of life and love it brings
So keep your hands wide open
If you're needing anything

Throw it away
Throw it away
Give your love, live your life
Each and every day

And keep your hand wide open
Let the sun shine through
'Cause you can never lose a thing
If it belongs to you


Well, this isn't Shakespeare. I find the image of a disembodied hand moving across the land rather creepy.  In addition: if the hand's unclenched and open, it would be rather inefficient at rocking a cradle or in helping  one stand.   "...(T)hese magic words/In a magic book" is a rather facile and unmagical group of words.  I have noticed that when I sing this wonderful song to myself, I  automatically change the lyrics, for example:

I think about the life I live
A figure made of clay
I think of all the things I lost
The things that slipped away

That puts me in a certain mood
To search the halls and look
One night I found these magic words
In an ancient book

etc.

But when one considers the powerful effect of this song, such criticism proves to be mere nit-picking. Although there is a good deal less wit in the lyrics of this piece than in any by Cole Porter, the words are very effective nevertheless--a beautiful face with a few blemishes is still a beautiful face.  In this song, the meaning of the words is most important--it contains an essential lesson in life; it is presented in an understated way and is thus all the more aesthetically effective.  Throw all your vanity away, the song tells us, vanity being a way of life that makes one "a figure made of clay."  The truly lovely last two lines of the chorus--which are indeed worthy of Cole Porter, except for the fact that there is not a touch of irony--provide more than a touch of sagacity:  "For you can never lose a thing/ if it belongs to you."  This comes as a surprise, a paradox, which forces us to dig deeper.  How can one never lose a thing by giving things away?  In my interpretation, we are talking about two selves here.  The vain self accumulates things, thus diminishing one's Self.   This self-effacing Self becomes more manifest the more generous the self is.  By throwing it--the false self--away, you become open to the universe--(keep your hands wide open/ In everything you do), thus helping to bring about
the deepest happiness possible, the living presence of one's real Self, which is usually kept buried under a mountain of things. Thus the song provides a valid path for getting to the precious diamond within, which is accessible to everyone, albeit with considerable effort.

Many of us are trying to find happiness in a way that turns us into figures made of clay.  Throw it away! Excellent advice.

FIRST INTERPRETATION: ABBEY LINCOLN

Abbey Lincoln (1930-2010) received in 2003 a well-deserved Jazz Master award from the National Endowment of the Arts.  She composed many of the songs, including Throw It Away, which she recorded and performed many times during her long career.  From the 1990s until her death, she fulfilled a ten album contract with Verve records--these albums are her crowning achievements and have received great critical acclaim.  (All this was done, mind you, after the age of 60.)

We will listen now to a recording of Throw It Away from the 1994 album, A Turtle's Dream.  (She had composed the song many years before this recording was made.)

This is indeed a beautiful recording.  Abbey Lincoln was 63 or 64 when she made it; her voice is undiminished.  She obviously learned a lot from Billie Holiday, who was her role model.  The timbre of the voice is unforgettable.  Her phrasing is exquisite, as one would expect from an ardent admirer of Billie Holiday.  Note the different ways she sings "Throw It Away!" throughout the song.  It all sounds as if she is giving wise and gentle advice, which of course is exactly what she is doing.  Sometimes she extends the phrase for emphasis; at other times she syncopates it as if to say, "Just do it, it's not that hard."  Notice also her jazzy inflection of "you can never lose a thing:"  for YOU can NE ver LOSE a THING is how she sings it, utilizing the low repeated note as a pedal tone as the melody descends from the minor sixth above it down to the major third. This type of playing with the notes produces a very jazz-like effect.  
How warm and gentle and full her voice is!

As is the custom in jazz, the guitarist gets his chance to riff between the vocal parts.  I love the way the cellos take up the melody in the background. The guitarist is excellent; whether the instrumental part goes on too long, thus detracting from the impact of the words, is a matter of taste.

SECOND INTERPRETATION: ABBEY LINCOLN

This is from her 2007 album, "Abbey Sings Abbey."  It dates from 2007, which means Abbey was about 77 years old at the time of the recording. The voice has considerably aged since the time of the previous recording.  It is raspy at times and no longer has the power it had before.  Since her voice has lost much of its force, she "speak-sings" some of the words. Nevertheless, I love this recording and prefer it to the previous one.  This song, as we have seen, contains great wisdom; it is all the more effective when sung by an older person.  Gone are the ability and desire to dazzle; what come across, however, perhaps better than ever before, are Ms. Lincoln's understanding and mastery of communicating the words which she had written decades earlier.  It is the voice of a wise grandmother giving a beautiful lesson in wisdom to the young--just what experts have said the evolutionary purpose of grandparents are.  She seems to be saying, "Vanity is very important to you, but there is much more to life: throw the vanity away! You will be much happier if you do."  The voice is so much more gentle now.  Notice the phrasing with the pedal tones which I discussed in the previous recording: it's still present in this one, but it is very much toned down.  Vocalism isn't what's important here; humanity takes precedence.  The performance is, however, aesthetically even more stunning: the phrasing is perfect.

The talented Gill Goldstein provides a largely contemplative, and thus largely appropriate, accompaniment.



THIRD INTERPRETATION: JACKIE RYAN

On the night of the concert at the Baltimore Museum of Art, during which Jackie Ryan sang this song, I didn't know what to expect, having previously neither heard of her nor of Abbey Lincoln--what ignorance!  Ms. Ryan has a beautiful voice; I was intrigued.  But when she sang this song, I was transfixed and probably had my mouth open in amazement the whole time. 

Three years later, I attended a performance of Ms. Ryan's, again at the Baltimore Museum of Art.  As she signed the CD that, I was pleased to find out, included this song, I told her how much it means to me.  She informed me that Abbey Lincoln had passed away the day before she sang that song in 2010.  No doubt this added to the emotional depth of Ryan's performance that evening.  She told me that she found the lyrics somewhat enigmatic, but found the song very powerful nevertheless.  I gave her my interpretation of the lyrics, which she found convincing. 

Ms. Ryan has received great critical acclaim. "One of the outstanding jazz vocalists of her generation, and quite possibly, of all time.." wrote Christopher Louden in Jazztimes. "Amazing vocal powers...Jackie Ryan's chemistry of passion is truly sensational," wrote John Fordham in The Guardian.  These are not exaggerations.

She certainly has a lovely voice, but her greatest gift is the ability to convey deep, but never excessive, emotion.  She keeps the musical line flowing without ever dragging it down by an exaggerated display of feeling--thus making the emotional delivery all the more effective.  Her interpretation gives one the conviction that the singer has indeed thrown away what needs to be thrown away and that which is left are those "things" which transform, namely, love and compassion. There is not a hint of preachiness--Ms. Ryan is far too musical for that.  She has slowed the tempo down in comparison to Abbey Lincoln's version, in line with the contemplative nature of the piece.  The pedal-tone rhythm is used here also, but in an even more understated way.  The more unobtrusive rhythms of her interpretation  indicate that Ms. Ryan doesn't want to get lost in the music here as much as she wants to present an impressive fusion of words and music, which she accomplishes brilliantly. The inflections are extremely subtle. She phrases "Throw it Away" on one occasion in such as way as to covey--with love--this message: Stop all nonsense and act according to the real you, which is a "thing" of wonder! (Just like mine or anyone else's.) 

She has chosen very good musicians.  The accompaniments in Lincoln's recordings are a bit too busy at times; the pianist here is first-rate, but, instead of attempting to dazzle, he or she provides exactly what is needed and perfectly serves the meaning of the song.  No "Look at me!" here; its message is rather, "Look within!"  The length of the instrumental solo is shorter than in the other two versions, which in my opinion, makes its inwardness all the more effective.

This is a very inward piece indeed.  The ending, in which Jackie Ryan whispers Throw it Away, reminds me of the voice of conscience, one's inner voice; it's as if the whole song is an inner exhortation of the need to throw away excess psychological baggage which weighs one down.  What remains after that is done is evident in every note Jackie Ryan sings.

I thought of this song as I read the following sentence in Sam Harris's excellent book, Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion: "If you are perpetually angry, depressed, confused, and unloving, or if your attention is elsewhere, it won't matter how successful you are in life--you won't enjoy any of it."

THROW IT AWAY!

KILLING KILLERS

On May 15, 2015, when it was announced that DzhohkarTsarnaev, 21, was  given the death penalty for the bombing attack during the Boston Marathon two years ago, I was in a car, being driven to a fitness club by a friend.  We heard the news on the radio.  My friend shouted, "Hooray!"  I, however, felt a sudden stab of sorrow and didn't say a word.

That the United States continues to execute people is an abomination.  Look at the company we keep--The five countries which are the biggest offenders are, in order of frequency: China, Iran, Iraq, The United States and Pakistan.  The rest of the world must be reacting with anger or with sad amazement when the United States attempts to lecture  other countries on morality.  I feel ashamed.

I also feel hopeful.  I have no doubt that eventually this type of killing will no longer be legal in my county. It is inevitable, since more and more Americans are realizing that the death penalty is a barbaric anachronism. Unfortunately, "eventually" undoubtedly means that some will die before a ban on death-by-jury goes into effect.  It is incumbent on all seekers of justice to work together to change "eventually" into "now and forever" as soon as we can.

Permitting capital punishment is, unfortunately, just one part of a dysfunctional system of justice. I have long argued against the horrors of the American penal system.  The emphasis should be on protecting society, not on punishment.  I don't think punishment should be central in the raising of children--leading by example works so much better.  With adults, it obviously doesn't work at all. 
So many offenders exit the prison system more dangerous to society than at the time they entered it.  Recidivism rates are high.  In most European countries, especially in Portugal, prison conditions are much more humane, and more funds are spent on reintroducing offenders to society--helping them get jobs, etc--than in warehousing them, the recidivism rate is much lower.

I suppose it's not surprising that the U.S. still permits the death penalty, since injustice doesn't end there: The United States has 5% of the world's population--and 23% of the world's prison population!  No other country imprisons non-violent offenders the way my country does.   There are no absurdly long mandatory sentences for non-violent crimes in other democracies.  Solitary confinement is not common in other industrialized countries; in the U.S. it is widely imposed. The average prison sentence in the Netherlands is seven years; in the U.S. it is twenty-nine years.  Receiving a life-sentence is extremely rare in the Netherlands; in the U.S. it is common. Can you imagine a European country forbidding its felons, who have served their time, from every voting again?  The list of the offenses of the American justice system is legion. What are we doing wrong?  Nearly everything.
Many people argue against the death penalty since it is not at all rare that someone on death row is proven innocent, as several recent DNA-mediated exonerations attest.  Others argue against the death penalty since the poor--especially the black poor--are much more likely to be condemned to death.  Another valid point is the fact that it costs much more to execute a person than to keep him in prison for however long the sentence stipulates.

These and other factors are true, but such arguments miss the point: the death penalty is always morally wrong.

It would be good if citizens in the so-called Bible Belt states, where most American executions occur, would practice a central teaching of Jesus of Nazareth: Judge not lest ye be judged.  It is permissible--society in fact requires it--to judge behavior, but not the person performing that behavior.  We can never get into a person's head deep enough to prove that he (nearly all the condemned are men) is responsible for his actions.  Personal responsibility is a paradox: to live justly, one must assume it for oneself while cognizant of the fact that it is impossible to determine whether another person is truly responsible for his actions.  Can one be sure that if one was raised the way one who has committed a violent crime was raised and if one's brain was wired in the same way, that one would have not committed the same crime?  The answer is no. Our behavior is more determined than we think.  

Refraining from judging others does not lead to a permissive society, since we are responsible for the protection of all citizens,  necessitating that offenders be removed from society for a reasonable amount of time, while every effort is made to reform them.

I think that most of the people who support the death penalty--and our out-of-control judicial system--have an "us" versus "them" mentality.  "I would never do that!" they tell themselves.  "I am not a thug.  A thug must be held accountable for his behavior.  I am good; he is bad.  If we let him get away with it, goodness doesn't pay!"  Why bother to be humble and walk a mile in his moccasins before judging a neighbor when, in self-righteous dudgeon, one can lock him up and throw away the key?

The truth should be obvious to all: everyone is us.

Regarding capital punishment, however, things, albeit still bad, are getting better.  Only 15% of the population of Massachusetts, where the terrorist attack of the Tsarnaev brothers occurred, supports the death penalty for the surviving brother.  I was delighted to learn that the parents of Martin Richard, an eight- year-old boy who died in the terrorist attack, are very much opposed  to sentencing Tsarnaev to death.  "Closure" comes with time and, especially, with forgiveness; finding satisfaction in the murdering of  murderers is not the way to heal.

I am certain that the days of the cruel and unusual punishment of State-sponsored killing are numbered, just as there is no turning back from the eventual (imminent?) legalization of gay marriage or from the provision of health care to all.  The Hegel in me is satisfied:  the zeitgeist is against capital punishment.  Soon my country will join the rest of the civilized world and prohibit the death penalty forever. Still, the Hillel in me anxiously asks, "If not now, when?"

Music is Music! Part II: Gospel

1. Introduction

At first I was a little hesitant, being an old white man who has never been inside a black church, to write about gospel, the very soul of that church.  I came to the conclusion, however, that I did have that right, since I love this music.  Where else can you find such celebration of life; where else can you find such sorrow that is always transcended by an even greater joy? Yes, you can find it in other places, but rarely in such an emotionally intense and pure form.

I must say from the outset that I do not share the specifics of Christian faith.  I do readily acknowledge, however, what might be called "the unspoken and unspeakable Word behind words," which deepens my appreciation for gospel. (For my religious views, see "Ramana Maharshi and the Rabbi," which is available online.)  Neither a Christian nor an African American, I admire this music nevertheless, an indication of its transcendent universality.

This is the second of at least a four-part series, each of which briefly discusses examples of music which I find to be particularly beautiful.  Each essay deals with a specific genre; the overall theme is the celebration of musical diversity.  I strongly assert that if one really loves music, it is impossible to state such things as "only classical music (or jazz, rap, rock, blues, etc.) is worthwhile."  If music is an important part of your life, you listen to sounds with an open ear--you don't think about it, you let it happen.  If you respond positively, you like it; if you don't, you're either unfamiliar with that specific genre, or, with time, you discover that that particular type of music is not for you.  

The first part of the series, "Music is Music!  Part l: Beautiful Hurts" is already available online. (You can access it by googling "Beautiful Hurts" along with my name; it is on my blog.) Now let us turn our attention to one gospel piece as variously interpreted by three great gospel singers.

2. Lord, Don't Move The Mountain

These are the original lyrics:

Lord, don't move the mountain,

But give me strength to climb it;

Please don't move that stumbling block,

But lead me all around it.

The way may not be easy,

You didn't say that it would be

For when our tribulations get too light,

We tend to stray from Thee--

(I'm praying to you,)

Lord don't move the mountain, etc.

When my enemies would slay me,

And these things they will try to do,

Lord, don't touch him but within his heart

Make him give his heart to you.

(I'm praying to you,)

Lord, don't move the mountain, etc.

This gospel favorite was written in 1958, lyrics and music by Doris Akers and her friend, Mahalia Jackson, whose recordings of this piece we will soon discuss.

The lyrics are quite good; they provide very sound advice.  The song assumes, quite correctly I think, that everyone has a mountain of sorrow in his or her life that must be faced and overcome.  The singer isn't asking for miracles; she knows that the mountain is there to stay.  No sense praying for it to disappear; mountains don't disappear, at least during a human lifespan.  The gospel singer is requesting that she receive strength to surmount her mountain of difficulties and, presumably, get a spectacular view from the summit.

In my interpretation, the authors of this gospel tune are asking for inner strength, strength from the God within themselves, to triumph over, or at least to bear, "the inevitable difficulties and failures in life," as the Buddhists say.

The image of the mountain is quite effective; the image of the "stumbling block" is just as good.  I would like now to illustrate the significance of this metaphor with another one.  It is like a dark room of the soul, as it were; if one tries to be brave and enter it, one may never be heard of again. It is that horrible.  The only sane thing to do is to walk past it and proceed down the hall, and enter one of the many rooms in which it is possible to help oneself and to help others.  The gospel singer is asking for the inner wisdom not to confront that which is sure to lead to destruction. Faith must guide her around these impediments so that she can walk on.

3, First Interpretation: Doris Akers

Doris Akers (1923-1995) was a Renaissance woman of gospel music.  Not only did she compose many great gospel tunes, such as the one under discussion now; she was also a master at the keyboard.  She was a very skilled arranger and very able choir director as well.  Unlike many other musicians, she was good at business and was actively involved in publishing gospel music.. The Smithsonian Institution declared her in 1992 to be "the foremost black gospel singer in the United States."  She was inducted into the Gospel Hall of Fame in 2001.  What a voice!  A full, warm instrument possessed by a first-rate musician.  

I must admit, however, that I haven't warmed up to this recording.  I would like to make clear that this is merely my opinion, and is in no way meant to be authoritative.

In this recording, Akers was more interested in beauty of tone rather than in a searing emotional delivery.  The whole thing sounds a bit anemic to me.  Yes, I like gospel music that pleases, but I especially like gospel music that goes beyond entertainment, and either hits, hurts and heals, or evokes great joy.  The backup singers are fine; I just don't like the style, more reminiscent of popular music of that time. The "mountain" and "stumbling block" indicate real suffering that is to be overcome by faith--at least in my interpretation they do--In this rendition, however, you could easily replace the lyrics with something secular and few would notice the difference. The words of this tune demand a lot more than easy listening.  Once again, I stress this as merely a matter of taste; your taste could be very different and just as valid.

4. Second interpretation: Inez Andrews

I had never heard of Inez Andrews before reading her obituary in the New York Times on December 21, 2012.  The newspaper called her "the last great female vocalist of gospel's golden age." The article mentioned her greatest hit, the song which we are discussing.  I must confess my ignorance: at the time I hadn't heard of this gospel piece either.  I looked up Inez Andrews's version on YouTube and was so impressed that I posted it on a social medium.  This is fine gospel singing.

Inez was praised for her powerful and agile contralto; she had a great instrument at her command.  We hear less evidence of this in this recording, which, judging from her picture, was made very late in her career.  There is a recording of a different piece made in 1964 that does indeed reveal her remarkable voice. I would estimate that at the time of the 1964 recording she was about 200 lbs heavier; her voice might have lost some of its resonance along with the loss of weight.  No matter.  She more than makes up for it with her mature interpretive abilities so evident in this recording.  (There is another version of her singing this piece; the one we are discussing is my favorite.)

The "Bluesy" arrangement works well. How lovely the phrasing!  How expertly she comes in after the beat several times during this performance!  

I want to call your attention to a slight change in the lyrics:

When my folk would slay me,

these things they will try to do,

But Lord, don't touch 'em but within their hearts

They can give their life to you.

I don't know what the term for it is, if there is one, but listen to how she "scream-sings" the last two lines in order to provide greater emotional impact--much as black preachers are wont to do.  She does this wonderfully, with just the right balance.  The first two lines, to say the least, depict a source of great pain and sorrow for the singer.  She finds release in the last two lines--and does she ever!  There is more than a hint of anger in the voice.  The hurt and the rage, however, are given over to God.  Not only does she request that He not seek vengeance on her behalf, but to "touch their hearts" so that they change their ways and live a life of love and forgiveness.  It is a fine example of potentially negative emotions powerfully transformed into something positive --with the help of music, with the help of God. The words don't convey this emotional intensity; it is her brilliant interpretation of those words that touches us deeply.  Inez Andrews, you were one of the greats!

5. Third Interpretation: Mahalia Jackson

What can I say?  There is indeed nobody like her.  The timbre of her powerful voice is as distinctive as that of Maria Callas or of Luciano Pavarotti--and her musicianship is just as impeccable.  What I most admire is that she uses her voice with riveting intensity.  With most singers, it is evident that they are performing, attempting to please the listener--and this is how it should be.  But with Mahalia Jackson one gets a different impression.  The sincerity is overwhelming; you feel as if you are witnessing a very private and very intense prayer, a dialogue between a devout representative of humanity with the divine source of all humanity. Her best performances are so emotionally intense that you forget that it is a performance and not a spontaneous prayer. Only when you "come down" from the experience do you realize that Miss Jackson's was indeed a performance--if it wasn't, it would be art.  Everything is deliberate; she obviously practiced this piece a lot before recording it.  (There is a recording of her singing this music just after Doris Akers and she composed it, which is not as moving as this version.)

There is a subtle way, as if in quotes, in the way she sings "the mountain"--it is understated, but it helps you understand what a burden that mountain is, although there is no doubt that with the help of God she will climb over it.  You know that things have been rough--it is the human condition--by the way she sings "tribulations" at a higher pitch, delivered with the full force of that very powerful voice.  I would like now to draw attention to the way she sings "my stumbling blocks."  Everyone else sings "my" on the beat.  She syncopates it, singing "my" after an eighth-note rest.  She also sings "my stumbling blocks" very quietly.  This is a fine example of conveying a message through phrasing.  As I mentioned previously, the "stumbling block" is like a dark room of the soul that would cause serious harm to the individual who entered it.  She knows what God can and cannot do; the only possible way to reach the mountain, which God will help her climb, is to avoid those stumbling blocks completely and pray to God that He lead her around them.  The interpretation here is original and very effective.

Note that Ms. Jackson left out the stanza about people trying to slay her, which is present in the other two versions.  This stanza has a slightly paranoid quality about it, which is very far from Ms. Jackson's way of thinking.  She is solely concerned with direct communication with God. Trying to find an even remotely petty emotion in Mahalia Jackson's music is as futile as trying to light a match in the depths of the sea.

I can understand that for some who lack a raw need for a balm in Gilead might find this a bit over-the-top and exaggerated.  I can understand this view, but I do not agree with it.

This performance is breath-taking; in my view it is the best version of this gospel.

6. Homage to Mahalia Jackson

I will close this essay with a poem.

Although I only recently have become acquainted with the work of Doris Akers and that of Inez Andrews, I have been an admirer of  Mahalia Jackson for decades--I suppose it shows.  I remember tossing my little toddler son in the air, both of us laughing with joy as we listened to an album (a record in those days!) of Jackson favorites, especially the euphoric, "God Put a Rainbow in the Sky."  That was over three decades ago.  Around the same time, I composed a poem in her honor.  It won second prize in a reputable poetry contest.  I traveled from Baltimore to New York City to accept the prize, and read the poem at the 92nd Street Y.  The one who got first prize was a wonderful English professor, who wrote a very touching poem about his triumph over alcoholism.  He subsequently informed me that he admired my poem so much that he kept a copy of it on his person and showed it to "whoever would listen."  I think that was the best compliment about my poetry that I have ever received.  You deserve that compliment, Mahalia, not me!

HOMAGE TO MAHALIA JACKSON                                   


                     1.

At the very height of suffering,
most are destroyed; the wounded rest
survive to limp toward nothing
on paths short of long; lost
except for very, very few
who become immortal songs.

From her best recordings I imagine
the transport of Aquinas’s last years.
Dust has no kingdom in such music:
to her, death’s a gate we pass through
on the low road to glory; Lordy,
who can hear and believe she was wrong?


                  2.

Despite music, darkness reigns
still inside, outside us.
Which is final?  Who has ears,
hear her, singing conviction,
especially Lazarus, lost in affliction:
light, pure light, it can reach you.


                 3.

Her message was joy
because she knew
her people then
could ill afford
the luxury of sadness.

Poverty, madness,
and hate’s unbearable load
had killed far too many
for her to sing blues.
No girl’s or boy’s

lament over toys                                                    
broken in two
by hard fate in
her! On sorrow’s road
she reveals joy which is

got without illness
or drugs: (Lord,
Lord, this simple woman,
how well she knew
what God is!) love.