R.I.P. Vi Landry

I was in New Orleans last week for a school project. More on that later. A friend of many of my friends, Vi Landry, was killed ear­lier that week in Mis­sis­sippi in a car acci­dent. Her funeral pro­ces­sion on Sun­day was the most mov­ing event I have attended in years. It was a tes­ta­ment to the inspi­ra­tion and love she left with her friends and fam­ily. I feel hon­ored to get a glimpse of her in this rit­ual. (Her ashes are in the boat.)

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* 03/19/08 — I just remem­bered how this poem was read before the boat was placed in the water. I think some­one received it from Vi in an email. It’s by Rumi. I like it very much, so let’s save it here.

The New Rule

It’s the old rule that drunks have to argue
and get into fights.
The lover is just as bad. he falls into a hole.
But down in that hole he finds some­thing shin­ing,
worth more than any amount of money or power.

Last night the moon came drop­ping its clothes in the street.
I took it as a sign to start singing,
falling up into the bowl of sky.
The bowl breaks. Every­where is falling every­where.
Noth­ing else to do.

Here’s the new rule: break the wine­glass,
and fall toward the glassblower’s breath.

Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like some­one sud­denly born into color.
Do it now.
Your cov­ered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quiet­ness is the surest sign
that you’ve died.
Your old life was a fran­tic run­ning
from silence.
The speech­less full moon
comes out now.

“I used to want buy­ers for my words.
Now I wish some­one would buy me away from words.

I’ve made a lot of charm­ingly pro­found images,
scenes with Abra­ham, and Abraham’s father, Azar,
who was also famous for icons.

I’m so tired of what I’ve been doing.

Then one image with­out form came,
and I quit.

Look for some­one else to tend the shop.
I’m out of the image-making business.

Finally I know the free­dom
of madness.

A ran­dom image arrives. I scream,
“Get out!” It disintegrates.

Only love.
Only the holder the flag fits into,
and wind. No flag.”