Graceland

Our travelling companions, in their many

thousands, are mostly old or middle aged –

here from all parts of this divided land,

here where a local man set off a bomb,

in this utilitarian, concrete arena

magicked into a digital theatre.

 

‘The Mississippi Delta is shining like

 a National guitar,’ sings the elderly,

almost diminutive troubadour

from New York City, still centre stage

with his acoustic guitar, ironic

and lyrical, after all this time.

 

‘And she said losing love is like a window

in your heart. Everybody sees you’re blown

apart. Everybody sees the wind blow…

 

He has a young man’s energy. His voice,

nearly pristine, is rasped with wisdom.

Imagine Cole Porter and Irving Berlin

touring the world with their own orchestras!

 

‘And sometimes when I’m falling, flying,

And tumbling in turmoil, I say, Whoa…

 

He is accompanied by an off-stage host

of engineers, technicians and crew,

and backed by a multi-talented,

cosmopolitan band of angels.

 

‘…I’ve reason to believe we will all

be received in Graceland.’