Our travelling companions, in their many
thousands, are mostly old or middle aged –
here from all parts of this divided land,
here where a local man set off a bomb,
in this utilitarian, concrete arena
magicked into a digital theatre.
‘The Mississippi Delta is shining like
a National guitar,’ sings the elderly,
almost diminutive troubadour
from New York City, still centre stage
with his acoustic guitar, ironic
and lyrical, after all this time.
‘And she said losing love is like a window
in your heart. Everybody sees you’re blown
apart. Everybody sees the wind blow…
He has a young man’s energy. His voice,
nearly pristine, is rasped with wisdom.
Imagine Cole Porter and Irving Berlin
touring the world with their own orchestras!
‘And sometimes when I’m falling, flying,
And tumbling in turmoil, I say, Whoa…
He is accompanied by an off-stage host
of engineers, technicians and crew,
and backed by a multi-talented,
cosmopolitan band of angels.
‘…I’ve reason to believe we will all
be received in Graceland.’