Picasso’s Brickwork
Tonight
At the concert
The guitarist stood
In the smoke
Like a younger version of
“The Old Guitarist”
Only he wears black jeans
Like me
And stands against
A red brick wall
With wet lime, sand and
Cement in his eyes,
And he uses the back of his
Hand as a trowel for his
Tears while I pray for him.
“Beautiful,” I tell him,
Later,
When I pass him
On my way out
Because I heard a
Crack of joy
Spider through melancholy
As a ram’s horn
Blasted from somewhere
Along the outskirts
Of Jericho.
_________________
Note: Last night I came home from a concert with a guitarist still on my heart. Accustomed to larger and wilder venues, two of the band members noted this was the favorite show of the tour. They appeared tired after a long tour and then shaken up by a different vibe at our local venue. These guys are used to performing in bars and folk festivals. But ours was a quiet listening room. And quiet enough for my spirit to feel something stirring, maybe cracking, on that stage.
And I could still hear the sound of those horns when I came home.
Matthew Kreider 
This moment, this… Oh my. I love how you see.
Once He opens our eyes, we see Him at work everywhere, don’t we? If you had been there taking pictures, I bet you would’ve seen the same thing, Kelly. :)
What a gift your group gave to them — not to treat them as background music, or a crazy beat to accompany someone’s dancing… Just for you to sit and listen. And in this case, pray.
And what a gift you gave to the people of Haiti — not to treat them as background music. Blessings, friend. :)
Music. Again. We are on the same vibe, I think. Or maybe it’s the spring…
I was only joking about my ill feelings toward you — and all your selfish concert-going of late. But, yes, there’s music in the air, Laura. And maybe something is about to spring, too …
loved this one. I always liked that painting, and I’ve often re-imagined Jericho with guitars (strange but true!)
Yes, I can see you out there marching. An album of “marches” would be fascinating. Are you interested? Maybe even a collaboration with Steve Bell?
Just discovered your blog today. Thank you for sharing your heart for Christ in a refreshing and real way. – Patrick
Patrick, I’ve gotten behind at replying to notes here. But thank you for stopping by my place. It’s a gift to meet you here.
Music can do that to you. And to the artist, I suppose. Love the imagery of “sand and cement in his eyes…” That definitely gives the tired impression. Yet the beauty, the trumpets.
Just the fact that we are surrounded by trumpets, even when we’re walled up by fatigue or despair, is reason to celebrate.
oh, the line about Jericho….music is what brought those walls down.
very poignant picture, Matthew.
Music brought down the walls. I kinda wish I named this poem something different. “Music in Jericho.” Something like that. Because that’s what it’s all about. :)
Just beautiful.
A heap of broken-down walls makes for a beautiful mess, too. Thanks. :)
Beautiful, Matthew.
Thank you, Jerry.