Photo is from Brother Blue's website, www.brotherblue.com
I remember the first time I saw him,
an ageless man in
flowing blue robes and butterflies.
He came up to me and took my hand.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
I smiled and stammered something silly
because compliments so direct are as hot
as a coal in my hand. Others passing
smiled at my embarrassment. They knew Blue, you see.
He insisted, “You really are beautiful.
You are a gift. A gift.”
Later I learned his name was Blue.
Everyone knew him in storytelling world.
Blue the street rappin’ Shakespearean.
Blue the lover of peace, the speaker in tongues.
Kids, people would laugh at him
at first. But not for long. He drew you
into his world of fantasy, poetry and stories.
He knew what he was doing.
The doctor in front of his name should have been
for the healing he gave to others with his joy,
his love and compassion for all people,
every one he met. That was Blue.
From him I saw
for the first time
that I was a gift.
A gift to myself and my world.
A gift I could share through stories,
listening and understanding.
I learned this, as many
before and after me also heard
the same surprising news about themselves.
That was Blue’s gift, the joy he spread
as he laughed, sang and storied through life
believing always in the goodness of people.
A man adorned with butterflies, light
Good-bye, Blue. You were beautiful.
Your gift to us was you.