A Poem of Gratitude
I hear words in clips and phrases that I unlawfully take
ownership of.
They heal my soul and give relevance to my heart.
And because such, they are mine now.
I'm so grateful for these:
Moments
Artists
Emotions
This ability to relate to others
These talents that others have cultivated
Thank you Wilco, Ingrid, and Regina.
Thank you Stevie Nicks. Thank you Joni Mitchel- and God for
that voice- and Van Morrison too.
Thank you Brian Doyle, and my dear one Anne.
Thank you to the vibration of music, and the rhythm and cadence
of careful words. Words,that no matter how heavy, make me feel lighter for the
hearing of them. They remind me that I'm not alone.
Thank you Rembrandt and Connelly and Hopper
Songs and paintings and crafted word and voice and the way
light enters through certain windows in certain buildings- they are all
heartfelt prayer on my behalf.
I’m so grateful for art, in all its forms; Music especially!
What is it about lyrics paired with melody? Lyrics are the message but melody
is the bullet that blows past my thick skin, and my heart- no matter how hurt
or guarded or stony- and lets the message sink in and take root.
I have a list of songs that are significant to me. No doubt
I’ll share a number of tunes on that list eventually, but today I wanted to
share these Bright Eyes lyrics. I cry almost every time I earnestly listen to
this song. They remind me of how
important it is to love and be compassionate towards other people. There have
been many a day that someone has just “sat with me a while” or kept me company
through “days so long and black.” This song is a description of empathy,
compassion, and kindness.
Bowl of Oranges
The rain, it started
tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in my dreaming,
so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes
were wide and already open.
Just my nightstand and my dresser where those
nightmares had just been.
So I dressed myself and left them, out into
the gray streets.
But everything seemed different and completely
new to me.
The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my
own body.
And each person I encountered, I couldn't wait
to meet.
I came upon a doctor who
appeared in quite poor health.
I said "There is nothing I can do for you
you can't do for yourself."
He said "Oh yes you can. Just hold my
hand. I think that would help."
So I sat with him a while and then I asked him
how he felt.
He said, "I think I'm cured. No, in fact,
I'm sure.
Thank you Stranger, for your therapeutic
smile."
So that is how I learned
the lesson that everyone is alone.
And your eyes must do some raining if you are
ever going to grow.
But when crying don't help and you can't
compose yourself.
It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse
of longing or simple song of hope.
That is why I'm singing...
Baby don't worry cause now I got your back.
And every time you feel like crying,
I'm gonna try and make you laugh. And if I
can't, if it just hurts too bad,
then we'll wait for it to pass and I will
keep you company
through those days so long and black.
And we'll keep working on
the problem we know we'll never solve
Of Love's uneven remainders, our lives are
fractions of a whole.
But if the world could remain within a frame
like a painting on a wall.
Then I think we would see the beauty.
Then we would stand staring in awe at our
still lives posed like a bowl of oranges,
like a story told by the fault lines and the
soil.