Here I sit
In the silence and abandon
Asking no more questions
Expecting no more answers
Where is the push?
Where is the prize?
This is the reward
For a hope that dies
In the silence and abandon
Here I sit
And wait for nothing
I am Lazarus bound and waiting
A blind man wrapped in chains
Shorn of broken dreams and dignity
In the desert I’m left to wander
Cold nights and burning days
Longing for the sound of melody
And looking for the song that I can sing
Look past the pain
Through tears that burn
No lessons learned
Follow the river
To the crashing sea
Cast off the dreaming
Into the deep
The stars are fading
The moon grows thin
Silver reminder of the turn
The wounds we’re trading
Cut deep again
Another lesson we’ll never learn
Remembering lost words…
“A Day Will Come…?”
It has been weeks or years
Since last I held music in my arms
Cradling the wood against me
Feeling the bite of steel in flesh
Caressed by a minor key
And lost in the magic of tone and rhythm
The tools of my trade are locked away
Safe in the prison of their cases
Free from broken chords
And halting melodies of despair or hope
Will a day come when I reopen the book of spells
Trying to remember lost chords
So now the rocks must cry out
And sing the songs of gladness
It’s cold outside today.
An overriding grey hugs the tree line and neutralizes the sun and shadows.
It’s not a crisp and invigorating cold;
It’s a bitter and numbing iciness that leaves a hollow in your bones and turns your heart lonely.
Fire doesn’t seem to get past your skin in this kind of cold.
It’s enough to make the lost want to be found…
Even if just to feel warmth again
Even just the memory of it.
I sleep; I do not rest
My heart is burning but it’s cold as the dead
I weep; not much to give
I’m not afraid to die, not brave enough to live
There’s nothing more to borrow
I’m just waiting for tomorrow
The outcast longs to be received
The liar begs to be believed
The bitter wait to be relieved
Praying all for mercy to hold sway
Only to be met by a hard, hard rain
It is written that we should bear one another’s burdens. But no one can wear the yoke of someone else’s failure; how else will a man learn his lesson?
Some will point out that Christ paid the price for our failings and falls, but I sometimes wonder if he ever felt the weight of failure. I believe he suffers all those lost…but isn’t that ‘lostness’ due to choice?
But down here you make your choice and pay the fare…time to move on. Best to be prepared to wear the sigil of your fall for longer than you can imagine.
The weight of failure staggering
The sting of bitterness blinding
Abandonment and loss
Forged the chains forever binding
Years will be required to pay the cost
In the end all you are is lost
These days (weeks/months) I’ve been trying to write. But not just write, but to do so with candor and courage. And every single time, I’m finding myself either playing it safe, or editing out the dangerous parts. Cleaning it up or hiding behind metaphor to make it “universal.”
To write something less than truth means I’m either a coward or a liar. I’m not really sure which is worse…
Perhaps it’s both, really.
Jesus was right. Lukewarm lyrics or words or even a life makes you want to puke…
But in the dark hours of the night, and in the heat of the afternoon, thoughts roll out that alternately freeze the marrow or sear the soul, sometimes all at once. Icy clarity joins with fiery passion and the result are words/lyrics/poetry that must find some release…or else.
Hot or cold. Take your pick.
Metaphor still reigns, but the feelings are real. One day if I ever grow up, I’ll use big boy words to tell the story. For now, play the game with me one more time…
Do you wanna play a game?
How about pretend?
There’s no hurt, no pain
Just the illusion I maintain
And fear whispering the end is close at hand
So one day I’ll cross the river
Pay the ferryman his fee
I’ll collect my last belongings
The memories of me