Poetry: Beyonce remixed by Forrest Gander – Bey the Light
It’s my daughter, she’s my biggest muse.
There’s someone, we all find out soon,
more important than ourselves to lose.
I feel a deep bond with young children –
all those photos in my dressing room –
especially those who’ve been stricken,
Children I’ve met across the years –
they uplift me like pieces of moon,
and guide me, whispering in my ear
I’m turned to spirits, the emotions of others.
And I feel her presence all the time
though I never met my grandmother.
I learned at a very young age,
when I need to tap some extra strength,
to put my persona, Sasha, on stage.
Though we’re different as blue and red,
I’m not afraid to draw from her
in performance, rifts, even in bed.
I saw a TV preacher when I was scared,
at four or five, about bad dreams,
who promised he’d say a prayer,
If I put my hand to the TV.
That’s the first time I remember prayer,
an electric current humming through me.
You call me a singer, but I’m called to transform,
to suck up the grief, anxiety, and loss
of those who hear me into my song’s form.
I’m a vessel for all that isn’t right,
for break-ups and lies and double-cross.
I sing into that vessel a healing light.
To let go of pain that people can’t bear.
I don’t do that myself, I call in the light.
I summon God to take me there.
Utopias, they don’t much interest me.
I always mess things up a bit.
It’s chaos, in part, that helps us see.
But for my daughter I dream a day
when no one roots for others to fail,
when we all mean what we say.