An Elegy
Written By Larry J. Knight, Jr.
I’ll miss your innocence;
the way you danced
by moonlight,
without a song,
down St. Charles Avenue,
carelessly,
whispering into the night,
tracing your fingertips
on the trunks of trees
as you moved pass them,
your arms outstretched,
like wings,
balancing you,
giving you flight;
I’ll dream of your baptism,
when you were immersed
within transient waves of jazz;
the way you floated
down the River Walk
on its notes,
effortlessly;
how you, and the waves
of the Mississippi,
moved synchronously
in that spring air;
I’ll miss the glow
of your white satin dress
at midnight,
the curve of your figure
and your smile in a seamless tandem,
your eyes reflecting
the moon;
how your Southern gentility
charmed new souls
with just a glance,
they fell in love with you,
as did I.
Copyright 2005 by Larry J. Knight, Jr.
1 comment:
A life in the theatre is filled with dissapointment.
Expectations, those life sucking impulses, throw up gaurds and barriers that try ever so blatantly to stiffle the joy.
But...but sometimes...and those moments are rare and oh so worth the effort, you sit in the dark and it happens and you remember why you return time and time again. You are insatiable with the search. Especially when you live in a town not known for the art- where artists are not nurtured and encouraged so they leave when the first blossom of their talent starts to shine like genesis - bright, pure and unincumbered with anything else - just beginnings.
When I lived in New York during my youth - "taking my shot" as it were, I was constantly told "there are 1,000 other guys just like you." The competition did not deter me - but the reality that those people in the dark (directors, producers, casting agents et al) would decide whether or not I would perform - whether or not I would have the opportunity to express my art - was anathema to me. I needed to be in the theatre - creating. Not spouting 2 minute monologues to strangers. So I left.
And I came to this town - like so many towns across our country - and I found a home - and 50 shows later, I am sitting in the dark again - and I am watching this highly anticipated piece of theatre self described as a "poetical". Full of buzz and power and statement. And I sat there, first with my critical hat on, watching the lights, listening to the music (live bongos - very nice, marveling at the way Al blended the parrallel stories of Julius and Malcolm...and then YOU walked on.
Brooding Brutus...
Conflicted Brutus...
Honorable Brutus...
Sensitive Brutus...
and suddenly the tech went away and the magic of live theatre grabbed me by the throat and I stopped breathing.
Acting is an undescribable art. Listen or read famous actors talk about it and they are full of vague responses - the interviewer thinks they are being secretive and protective but that is not it - they are simply afraid of analyzing the thing they do well. They know that it is better just to learn the lines, trust the words and the director and listen to your fellow actors and "re - act".
You have it Larry. A talent that is so keen that your naturalness looks like you are not working at all. I could not take my eyes off you. Even when David was weaving his evil web, and Freddy was channeling Malcolm X, and Renee and Miranda were working at a level I have rarely seen - you held me.
You held me with your honesty, your earnestness, and the enormity of your conflict - but you did it with subtlty, intelligence and a passion that stayed just under the surface - but visible nevertheless.
Brutus'suicide was inevitable. The characters arc left no other choice except madness. You made it believable.
Is there a higher compliment an actor can recieve? Believability.
So thank you Larry. Thank you for your art, you courage, your dedication. I llok forward to seeing you again and again and again.
Bob Pritchard
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