She
who played
the black and white keys,
the piano, the only friend of a lonely, dreamy, fervent
child from across the tracks.
She
grew prophetic, classical,
prolific,
little, lilted and black
yet she couldn’t strike back,
a husband who pretended to love her
with a mean hitting hand,
she
sought to ease her sorrow
looking with improvisation
for tomorrow.
Turbulence shackled her shoulders, her soul
and at corners she circled not knowing
which way to go,
raging, performing, shining on and on,
stage to stage,
stairs up and down,
the days of lights, laughter, and neighbors
and inky-deep indigo nights,
she
played and traveled and looked for a home.
We bid you only comfort, dearest,
darling with your righteous fingers
impressive
heart,
she
did what she could.
Sail on, ebony goddess, you are
forever bound in our endearments, twinkling
you settle, settle,
settled down
among the clouds of the comforting place
resting,
where you are
free, free, free.
Free to just be.
Copyright © 2016 by Susan E. Rowland
Treat Yourself to a Journaling Adventure 
Susan, exquisite poetry. Fine and beautiful even expressing loneliness and cruelty, like the woman Nina Simone. I love your images ” inky-deep indigo” and “at corners she circled”.
I so appreciate your comments. I was hoping this didn’t leave the reader down or depressed. Sometimes the most talented people have such serious challenges. Writing about creative people is tricky. I’m finding poetry is an immediate way to express what I feel. I re-worked it for days. ❤
Nina Simone! Love her! Thank you for this very beautiful tribute.
Hi Inese, thank you for stopping by! I agree. She was one of a kind. ❤ I have been enjoying your work so much. I hope to catch up this weekend. So many wonderful blogs out there.