Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Patch of Land (a love song)

If I had a patch of land
I would be planting this year
sewing a seam in the knee of your overalls

     If I had needle and if I had thread
     nothing would tear us apart
     I'd just be sitting here
     stitching you into my heart

On that far hill there's the smoke
of an open fire
branches have come down, but new shoots are growing up

     If I had needle and if I had thread
     nothing would tear us apart
     I'd just be sitting here
     stitching you into my heart

Grow us a sapling
and tie it with ribbons in spring
nail up the rafters, make homes for the sparrows to sing

    If I had needle and if I had thread
    nothing would tear us apart
    I'd just be sitting here
    stitching you into my heart



Friday, January 10, 2014

Sogni d'oro

From the Troubadour
To the Dawn

I looked and saw a window
I looked and saw a chair
I looked and saw a stairwell
and you were there.

I saw what I was meant to be
large as the western sea
high as its battlements
soft as the fallow field
       in the farmer's mind
       (is soft)

my roots were cedar roots,
they will not move.

I felt the warmth around my ears,
glowing down my neck like sunlight,
spreading over my shoulders like hands
from one behind.

As one grows up to a great sorrow
and sees all of childhood colored
to that one loss,

so I saw my life
was called to this sweet song.
Called from the time I pulled weeds
on the northern slope,
from the time I lay my head
on my father's knee.

From the Troubadour
To the Dawn

I turned, and saw our flock
like Jacob's flock,
Jacob's flocks and herds,
Jacob's sons and daughters,
blessed from the bottom of the belly,
sent out over mountains,
named and blessed.

And could I live like this?
If God is calling you to dance,
do you resist?

When Psyche saw Him in the light,
                        was she surprised?
                     
From the Troubadour
To the Dawn

Each swinging door,
each figure carved by hand!
I understand.