Hallelujah

To "S"

Long before my free-spirited friend, “S”

Sang Hallelujah,

In the streets of Chicago,

While driving carelessly,

And speaking charmingly gibberish to hasty passers-by,

And laughing absurdly at this grotesque world

 Long before I was introduced to Jeff Buckley’s version
 by my eccentric student in Creative Writing class,

Leonard Cohen’s voice

Had already been a wistful reminiscence.

Ten times repeating his lyrics

Twelve times or more:

“Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah”

I am cold
Am I cold?

The clock is ticking

I hear an inaudible whisper

Indefinable

Impalpable

The room is dark
Although the light is on
A car passes by
Lake Michigan roars in distance

Does Jeff Buckley’s death,

In Mississippi River

Remind me of love?

A branch of a Linden tree is broken

It’s bizarre looking at its fallen arm

And the blue of Lake Michigan!

I should call “S”
I should sing Hallelujah with him
In the streets of Chicago
While he would jokingly say:
“When I die, engrave on my gravestone: it’s all yours!”
And
We should laugh gaily
While driving carelessly
In the streets of Chicago

By Ezzat Goushegir

December 2, 2012 

Jeff Buckley