Electric Blue, you held them fast;

calmed and healed a tribal mind,

then pulled a string so taut

it snapped,

stuck out,

sucked back,

then stole their breath

with lyrical intensity;

poured scorn on ideology -

your signs designed to blow the lies away.

 

Electric Blue, you strummed so hard

your nails wore down to fingerprints,

then plucked so sweet

the fruit you hung

above collective mouths.

Dropped dew upon

our blistered lips:

balm to soothe a song

so fierce it ripped our skin,   

re-opened wounds,

threw salt across a wall of eyes.

 

Electric Blue, she’s twice alive;

her mind flies with the doves.

Within her strings sits dissonance,

her throat is soaked in truth.

And in her eyes a fire burns,

she warms her words with it,

and sweetens Sunday afternoons

with gospel tunes, and rebel songs. 

Through scribing psalms anew for us,

she tore her tongue in two.