la vie en rose // hubert selby jr.
yes, you were a little sparrow
yet when you sang the nightingale bluffed
and marveled at your distinct ability to transform your pain with the lightness
the nightingale doesn’t know
because it does not know the heaviness in your heart
i never saw you
but feel such a kinship
i never saw you yet we are sisters brothers one in the heart
i never saw you
but i know you were so slight so pale
yet so like lady day who was black
and like you when billie sang
she transformed hundreds of years of tragic history
into a towering victory of spirit
she too carried on a tradition
one in her blood
and one she learned from bessie and so many others
as i love your pale fragility so i love lady’s black strength
but who could think of color when she sang? or you?
because the music went right to the heart and resonated with the love from the soul
the little sparrow, lady day, and me
different arms
different tracks
same path
we took the journey together
and i know what manner of tortured heart
beat under our blue-dotted flesh
there were times when lester young would play behind billie
she’d stand at the edge of the stage swaying
getting ready for the next tune
and the prez would swoosh up behind her
and put the bell of his axe against her body and play “lover man”
and billie would wiggle her cute little thing
smiling and sort of croon kind of deep and throaty “ohhh prez”
it was always like the phoenix rising from its ashes
as the indomitable spirit rose from the tragedy of its existence
billie’s gone, little sparrow
and to the end it seemed like the trees that bore a strange fruit
were determined to strip her of every vestige of dignity
before she could go quietly into that much-needed night
friends would bring her a little dope
something to sniff so she could thumb her nose
at the generic pneumonia that was killing her
her nurse saw the white smudge on billie’s nose (easy enough to see)
and blew the whistle
and so the visits were cut off
those allowed in searched
and a police officer guarded the dangerous prisoner
as she slipped into the comfort of the sleep
where those concerns no longer exist
and she could sing her song in the light
lady had her day
but it seems like her nights were so despairingly endless
and now both have joined to shroud her with sleep
how many days did you have, little sparrow?
a few here and there
but always swallowed by the darkness
it seems the sunshine came only on a man’s shoulders
and it seems it was always inappropriate
and ill-fated
and then marcel cerdan entered your life
he too fought his way up from the streets
yours were parisian
his algerian
his streets became a ring
and then cheering thousands of fans
as with you
and his hunger clobbered men into submission
as with you, he fought his way to the very top
and into your sparrow’s heart
another inappropriate liaison
but this time it seemed to be blessed
but you had your nurse and guard too
and a routine flight to paris
and you
ended in strewn wreckage and black headlines
and once again the little sparrow was alone
seemingly abandoned and rejected by the very angels
that gave her the song she sang
and in time the angels defeated the demons
and you too were free of the struggle
and another part of me is gone
yet i somehow continue
not knowing from time to time
if it's the mercy of the angels that keeps me going
or my defiance of the demons
there have been so many songs cut off in mid-verse
so many seemingly lost bridges
i was locked up with bud powell shortly before he died
a man i used to see and hear almost weekly at one time
along with so many others like prez, bird
and countless others who walked our path
bud was one of the greatest musical geniuses of the 20th century
and when i think of him the image that comes to mind
is not of him at the old roost or bergland
but leaning against the wall in the psych ward at king’s county
eating a candy bar
and grinning the grin of a man separated from himself
so many times i have seen him hunched over the keyboard
a quart container of beer on the piano
finding chords that no one knew existed
and putting them together with imagination and brilliance
creating music second by second
but that’s not the image of bud that comes to mind
but rather bud hanging over a piano they rolled into the ward
that same grin on his face
hunting
hunting
hunting across the keyboard
unable to find what he had many years before found
and had already given to us
so many are gone
i loved them and still do
and so many of them are gone
have been for many years
and yet i remain
here now
and from time to time i think
not why i'm here and they're not
not a case of
they were so much more talented than i
i am far beyond wondering and/or comparing
i think about finishing their songs by singing mine
i believe not only that i can
but that i must
or what is heaven for?
i believe there is only one song in the universe
and we are the song
you, me, billie, piaf, bud
all singing the same song in our own way
only one song
so we must keep singing
oh god help me
help me to sing my song so theirs can go on
and their non-existent flesh cast off with scars
those blue-dotted cries of pain
oh my dear sweet god
i love my friends as i do you
and would sing their songs for them
so their spirits can rejoice
and cast off the habitual shackles
that kept them chained in their cells
i pray that no pain goes unsoothed
no fear unloved
and that i will continue to hear your songs sung by your kids
and we will all rejoice in the spirit
that continues to see not beauty and ugliness
nor joy and pain
but infinite possibilities in each other
the sparrow showed us it can be done
as did billie, bud, and millions of others
who every day sing your songs through endless heartbeats of pain
i thank all of you
all of you
and every time i manage to get one more breath into this body
i will sing a song of thanks to you
my brothers, my sisters, my friends
may your sleep be peaceful
and angels sing sweetly in your ears
I've transcribed this from an audio sample; no printed copy has ever been made available. My transcription doesn't do it justice, so to hear the original spoken-word piece, go to the media lounge page on Hubert Selby Jr.'s website and click on "La Vie En Rose" to hear it in its original form. There are about 30 seconds of opera singing and then the reading (lasting about 10 minutes) begins.