R.I.P. Vi Landry

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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.)

* 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.”

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Filed under friends, photography, travel

Tags: brass band, funeral, jazz, mississippi river, new orleans, rumi, vi landry