Poem to Guruji

In this season of night bird songs
this beautiful early evening
I watched the deep red rose petals drop
from the open flower
as you let go.

I love you like a daughter to a loving father
knew you longer than my own mother.

How can I be sad that you left this worn out body?
I weep for myself
and for all of us, your blood and music children
now at this moment we are a composition
sweet feeling notes
one song.

I feel suddenly unsure
missing your steadiness,
kind of dull
without your luminous wit,
newly raw
lacking your soothing protection.

In the words of another*
Now that the singer is gone
where shall we go for the song?

Tamam Kahn 6/14/96

*Robert Hunter, Eulogy for J. Garcia