Poetry

You Are the Musical Bridge: an Ode to Mark LaRue

October 4, 2025 /

I watch life—
the movement of words traveling from lips,
open arms embracing love,
the studious, the solitary,
the tired, the inquisitive,
the excitable—
souls congregating in one space of time.

Strangers balance upon the same thread of fate,
sipping coffees, eating cakes,
filling their voids,
their need for life.

Fairy lights twinkle against a gray autumn sky.
Red flowers blaze in stark contrast,
and I feel like I am in Oz.
Everything simply is—

except for you.

Judgment intervened,
and the angels asked.
Two paths diverged for your consciousness,
and you, being ever brave,
chose to leave.

Music and love surrounded you,
a playlist of songs carrying you home.
“Sweet dreams, baby… how long must I dream?”
played as your breath stilled—
a final lullaby.

Your daughter’s hand upon your wrist,
feeling for the last pulse.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
The clock read 1:22 p.m.,
as time itself bowed its head.

Many gathered by your side,
for you filled the world with music and joy.
Because of you, strangers
grasped and hugged one another tightly,
forgetting they were strangers.

Your soul—
a musical bridge for love.
You always chose your own thread to balance upon,
and walked the path of divine trust and creativity.

Your talent spirited you away in life.
It carried your soul to faraway places—
Asia, Europe, America.
Crowds danced and cheered as you played.
You opened for iconic artists,
and became iconic yourself—
inducted into the Hall of Fame.

Not many realize the power,
the necessity of the bass.
You were the backbone, the pillar, the atlas—
holding the band upon your tall, broad shoulders,
as you held your family and friends
with your incredible, expansive love.

You are the musical bridge.
You are the warm embrace.
You are the goofy grin,
the laughter,
the knowledge.

You are the passion—
reciting every artist, every track, every producer on a 45.
You always had a story to tell.

Your soul tasted many slices of humanity,
every flavor of love.
You were beautiful,
as are those you leave behind:
your wife, your sister,
your daughters, your grandchildren;
your nieces and nephews,
your great-nieces and nephews,
your friends, your bandmates, your community—
the world.

I watch life,
though you are no longer in it.
My breath still steady,
though my heart bears another cut.

I remind myself: there is no death,
only transference.
I know you are looking down—
upon those who need you,
upon those who miss you,
upon those who love you.

You are the musical bridge.

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