I see purple everywhere.
I wonder what my 13 year old son thinks of this…I haven’t
been able to stop crying since I arrived home from school.
Now the music is on and
His voice is on a constant loop right now…
His beats break my heart
His guitar gently weeps
And so do I
I didn’t know him personally. He was not my friend. He was not my
family. Yet I am torn…tearing, tearing
I can’t seem to get a grip
I want to cry and fuck and drink and cry some more
He would like that.
He would not like that I have been drinking since I got home
– mix for the tears – he was “straight edge.”
I dance and drink and cry.
He was another voice in the sound track of my youth…the
coming of age background music to all the bases…and beyond.
I don’t know what to do or how I am ever going to feel ok
again.
He was my wing man. My finisher – if When Doves Cry came on in the bar – and if I was on the dance floor
– I was guaranteed to have company at the end of the night.
Guaranteed.
His music goes straight to the centre of my brain where
belly dancing lives…the red-hot centre.
The music representation of Dionysus – intoxication and
sex…pure, unadulterated, fucking. And he
let me know it was ok to be that way.
Darling Nicky…made
me blush in recognition of the fact that I was her and she was me. Women who loved sex – and was not
ashamed…anymore.
He led me to the place where there was no more shame for who
I was under all of the smiles and
“yes-es.” The knowing
glances and moist lips.
Now there is this celestial reverberation where my only sense of funk used to be – the place in my hips where the rhythm lived…it is so empty now.
Strummer pushed me to rebel.
Prince stroked me to the finish and let me be the slut I
always knew I was – and was proud to be.
I feel like I cannot properly breathe
Or pant
Or moan
without him.
He purred out of me the most intense connection to places I
was, as a woman, never supposed to feel…be…see.
He was my one way ticket to fuckville and I hopped on the bus any chance
I got.
-a dangerous destination for a prairie girl in those middle
of nowhere University years – and beyond. A place mostly forbidden to survivors
like me.
I refused to stay away because I was supposed to feel
ashamed – no one was going to tell me how to feel about the energy I had that
was nearly stolen from me. I was
reclaiming and Prince was coach in the reclamation process. The women in his bands were all power,
beauty, talent, and fuck…all of it.
Apollonia…holy fuck…really? I wanted to be her and be in her – maybe at the same time.
But, really it was more about “if you are not with the one
you love, love the one you are with…” the love and connection message Prince constantly
put out there.
One love
One soul
One body
I was all about that message.
Connection
Peace
Love
Will heal us. The
alternative will kill us – all of us.
Prince knew that.
Dance
Cry
Write
Drink
Cry
Celebrate and express gratitude for having known his purr at
all.
Blessed Be you Prince of Princes.
Nothing Compares to U
Nothing ever will.
