An Elegy for Jerry by Robert Hunter
https://dead.net/features/days-between-celebrating-jerrys-70th-birthday
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Jerry, my friend,
you’ve done it again,
even in your silence
the familiar pressure
comes to bear, demanding
I pull words from the air
with only this morning
and part of the afternoon
to compose an ode worthy
of one so particular
about every turn of phrase,
demanding it hit home
in a thousand ways
before making it his own,
and this I can’t do alone.
Now that the singer is gone,
where shall I go for the song?
Without your melody and taste
to lend an attitude of grace
a lyric is an orphan thing,
a hive with neither honey’s taste
nor power to truly sting.
What choice have I but to dare and
call your muse who thought to rest
out of the thin blue air,
that out of the field of shared time,
a line or two might chance to shine –
As ever when we called,
in hope if not in words,
the muse descends.
How should she desert us now?
Scars of battle on her brow
bedraggled feather on her wings
and yet she sings, she sings!
May she bear thee to thy rest,
the ancient bower of flowers
beyond the solitude of days,
the tyranny of hours –
the wreath of shining laurel lie
upon your shaggy head,
bestowing power to play the lyre
to legends of the dead.
If some part of that music
is heard in deepest dream,
or on some breeze of Summer
a snatch of golden theme,
we’ll know you live inside us
with love that never parts
our good old Jack O’Diamonds
become the King of Hearts
I feel your silent laughter
as sentiments so bold
that dare to step across the line
to tell what must be told
so I’ll just say I love you
which I never said before
and let it go at that old friend
the rest you may ignore.
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Barry
08-01-2012, 09:52 AM
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Jerry's Gone
by Ram Das - 1995
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">Jerry's dead</center>
An era has ended
And here we are...still.
All these years,
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">The Dead concerts have been spirit</center>
Made manifest,
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">Deep connections into...</center>
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">Living Vibrant Love</center>
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">Now</center><center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">The high priest has split.</center>
The Tao Te Ching speaks of the best leader as one who leaves
The people thinking they did it all themselves.
Jerry was that kind of a leader.
He turned the power back to the people.
He, and the band...they have never really bought into
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">****SUPERSTARDOM****</center><center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">They have seen themselves more as catalysts</center><center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">In the magical mix of the moment</center>That allowed each person at the gathering to feel safe enough to
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">Become self-luminous.</center>
So now Jerry has dropped his body...
And here we are... still.
Through him and his mythic playmates came the sound that
Connected us to our deeper selves...
This was our spiritual practice... our doorway...
Genuinely ours... and it worked...
Now Jerry isn't
And we are...still.
So... has all that free form ecstasy
That we garnered from an otherwise shadow world
Transformed us? Or made us more free?
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">Or</center> Has it just left us a group of
Sad Grateful Dead addicts
In withdrawal?
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">For sure we will grieve the monumental loss of our friend...Jerry</center>
For a long...long...long...time.
Most likely we will go through some powerful depression
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">And despair...
We may even court cynicism...
After all...it's not easy to lose your connection.
But Jerry's legacy to us is more profound than all of that.
He is in us...
Just as we have been in him.
We have all been not a tribe... or a family,
But a bubble of awareness
Riding upon the ocean of sound
That is in and beyond the sounds we ear hear.</center>
Now it's up to us to co-create other safe spaces
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">Where we can listen to hear what Jerry heard</center>
And to allow our love-light to Shine.
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">Jerry is gone in one form,</center>But...like the magician that he is,
<center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; ">He has explosively been transformed into</center><center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; "> A million Jerrys...</center><center style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; "> One...improvising in each of our hearts.</center>Jerry...We express our gratefulness...
By becoming the memory of you.
-Ram Dass
This passage is an excerpt from GARCIA - A Grateful Celebration, originally published in 1995 byDupree's Diamond News (https://www.dead.net/features/who-or-what-duprees-diamond-news). To learn more about Dupree's Diamond News or how to obtain a copy of GARCIA - A Grateful Celebration, click here (https://www.dead.net/features/who-or-what-duprees-diamond-news).
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mamaj
08-13-2012, 12:38 PM
This is very heartfelt ,miss you Jerry. I met him when I was just 14 and he was....25? He also played at high school dances at Analy High school in Sebastopol. He also helped in putting together a song about my niece Cassidy, called Cassidy (https://artsites.ucsc.edu/GDead/agdl/cassidy.html). Thankyou for your music Jerry,thankyou for your song. Always in our thoughts and hearts.:heart::heart::heart::heart::heart::heart::heart:
An Elegy for Jerry by Robert Hunter
https://dead.net/features/days-between-celebrating-jerrys-70th-birthday
<tbody>
Jerry, my friend,
you’ve done it again,
even in your silence
the familiar pressure
comes to bear, demanding
I pull words from the air
with only this morning
and part of the afternoon
to compose an ode worthy
of one so particular
about every turn of phrase,
demanding it hit home
in a thousand ways
before making it his own,
and this I can’t do alone.
Now that the singer is gone,
where shall I go for the song?
Without your melody and taste
to lend an attitude of grace
a lyric is an orphan thing,
a hive with neither honey’s taste
nor power to truly sting.
What choice have I but to dare and
call your muse who thought to rest
out of the thin blue air,
that out of the field of shared time,
a line or two might chance to shine –
As ever when we called,
in hope if not in words,
the muse descends.
How should she desert us now?
Scars of battle on her brow
bedraggled feather on her wings
and yet she sings, she sings!
May she bear thee to thy rest,
the ancient bower of flowers
beyond the solitude of days,
the tyranny of hours –
the wreath of shining laurel lie
upon your shaggy head,
bestowing power to play the lyre
to legends of the dead.
If some part of that music
is heard in deepest dream,
or on some breeze of Summer
a snatch of golden theme,
we’ll know you live inside us
with love that never parts
our good old Jack O’Diamonds
become the King of Hearts
I feel your silent laughter
as sentiments so bold
that dare to step across the line
to tell what must be told
so I’ll just say I love you
which I never said before
and let it go at that old friend
the rest you may ignore.