by Ernie McCray
Tina Turner.
Gone.
I first saw her on stage
around 1957
or ’58,
and it was love at first sight.
Couldn’t help myself,
if I tried with all my might.
Not with the way
she and the Ikettes
moved and grooved
and sang
to Ike Turner’s
badass electrifying beat
that kept you dancing on your feet,
etching that night into my memory,
securely,
like a tattooist’s drawing
on light-toned skin,
a moment in time
back when
my adulthood
was just beginning,
a couple of years removed
from earning a college degree,
so much of my life
ahead of me,
a future where this woman
would remain in my life for decades,
she, at one stage,
off the stage,
epitomizing what overcoming adversity
looks like
as the world saw her
stand up on her feet to her full height,
brush off her dress
and walk away from an awful mess,
domestic violence
from a musical genius,
and climb a golden ladder
to the top
of the entertainment world
where she still stood
when she drew her last breath.
Oh, she, as they say,
was something else
and I just love her to death.
May she rest in peace
as “Simply the Best.”
VIVA Tina Turner!