These are my people. Beautiful, vibrant faces gathered
for the sole purpose of filling their ears and spirits with the euphoric romp
of the rock ‘n’ roll. These are my people, elated and adrenaline-filled, mashed
up against barriers, buds and strangers, beer sloshing, dancing machines
righteously singing their lungs out until it hurts. These are my people, who
came to rock and spill into the streets drenched in sweat, high on the power of
live music.
My intention is not to write a large, emotional missive
on terrorism, my thoughts on it or the plight of refugees in the middle east
etc. I will leave that to the fancy news makers and the grossly opinionated and uneducated. My intent is to simply and lovingly pay
tribute to my people, the people who worked for the weekend to arrive at a
Friday night that was to hold adventure and the awesomeness of Eagles of Death
Metal. My people, had no idea that stepping out into the Paris this night would
cost them their lives. For that, I grieve an indescribable ache.
I have been where they were. Not at the Bataclan, not in
Paris, but in their shoes: worked to the bone Monday to Friday, anticipating a night
certain to nourish my ravenous core by way of the power and indecent decibel of
rock ‘n’ roll enhanced by quality time with my buds, and exultation of it all
happening right in front of you. I live for that. I always have. I am sure so
many in that theatre on Friday night did too.
My heart goes out to those people whose lives were taken
so senselessly, in such a callous and violent manner: young effervescent individuals
rife with potential and vigor. My prayers go to those they’ve left behind,
family, friends, colleagues, and their dreams. My heart is also extended in
love to those who were inside and escaped with their lives or who still
struggle with their injuries.
I cannot pretend to understand what they’ve been through,
but I’ve been where they are: in the front row, amped up, starved for live
music, the escape and the potent freedom it engenders.
The next time I am where they were, the time after that
and so on, I will think of them, honour them, my people. Music, the universal language - is dedicated to you.
In propinquity,
Nic
Beautifully put, Nicole. So very well said. A poignant tribute to the victims of a massacre.
ReplyDeleteSo very in love with this, Nic. WE are those people, which is why it hurt my heart so much. Blissed out on rock n roll adrenaline, lost in the music and camaraderie, never expecting something so horrific. Thank you for making us remember the beautiful spirit of what that night was meant to be.
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