Last Night at the Barber Shop

The lights grow dim
the lady steps up to take the microphone in hand
but it is not there
she carries on regardless
her voice pushes past the crowded bodies to the back of the shop
the energy is high
people are here from every corner of town
to hear the lovely lady's poetry
and some jazz
then she begins
her words rise and fall
caressing each thought
carrying each emotion
straight to the listener
her eyes close
and she becomes lost in her vibe
the memories of the past
whether it's collard greens and sweet potato pie
or thinking of her Superman
we all feel the passion and truth behind each word
these are the words of her heart
these are the words of her soul
Then comes the jazz
it transports us to a different place
as we sit inside this space
from barber shop to Africa
as my friend furiously scribbles
to catch every lovely vision that comes to her
brought to her by this music
she is lost
miles away
and in another place
I sit and enjoy everything that is going on around me
my eye catches that shadows on the wall
I see these shadow musicians playing and moving
to the sound and beat
they exist in some other dimension
but it is beautiful.

Rebecca Truman
May 3, 2010