Jerry Garcia passed away at Serenity Knolls Chemical Dependency Center of an apparent heart attack, after checking himself in for recovery from a long-time battle with heroin addiction. He died peacefully in his sleep. He was 53.
RIP Jerry
Jerry, my friend,
you've done it again,
even in your silence
the familiar pressure
comes to bear, demanding
I pull words from the air
with only this morning
and part of this afternoon
to compose an ode worthy
of one so particular
about every turn of phrase,
demanding it hit home
in a thousand ways
before making it his own,
and this I can't do alone.
Now that the singer is gone,
where shall I go for the song?
Without your melody and taste
to lend an attitude of grace
a lyric is an orphan thing,
a hive with neither honey's taste
nor power to truely sting.
What choice have I but to dare
and call your muse who thought to rest
out of thin blue air,
that out of the field of shared time
a line or two might chance to shine
As ever when we called,
in hope if not in words
the muse descends.
How should she desert us now?
Scars of battle on her brow,
Beraggled feathers on her wings,
and yet she sings, she sings!
May she bear thee to thy rest,
the ancient bower of flowers
beyond the solitude of days,
the tyrrany of hours-
the wreath of shining laurel
lie upon you shaggy head
bestowing power to play the lyre
to the legions of the dead.
If some part of that music
is heard in deepest dream,
or on some breeze of Summer
a snatch of golden theme,
we'll know you live inside us
with love that never parts
our good old Jack O' Diamonds
became the King of Hearts.
I feel your silent laughter
at sentiment so bold
that dare to step across the line
to tell what must be told,
so I'll just say I love you
which I never said before
and let it go at that old friend,
the rest you may ignore.
Robert Hunter 8/11/95