Saturday, September 29, 2012
"You can’t see me yet, seeing takes a long, long time.
From the outside in, measuring each shift and sound.
But as you let your eyes adjust to the darkness deep within,
Sifting through the ash and dust, we are the places that we’ve been.
And you can’t hear me yet, listening takes a long, long time.
And I’ve so much to tell, but words die on these lips of mine.
But in the stillness you may sense everything I long to say,
Unraveling like golden threads, the walls will all come down this way.
And you don’t know me yet, knowing takes a long, long time
And time is all we have, never travelling in straight lines.
So memorize each turn and twist, and just be careful as you go
For love is a labyrinth and my heart is Jericho."
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
These lyrics are powerful. They made me cry. I do not expect. I have learned that help is not coming, at least that is my experience. I remember sitting across the kitchen table from a friend of ours and him saying those exact words. "Annie. No one is coming." It was up to me. But I will concede that perhaps I cannot see help, accept help, or acknowledge it has arrived. I can concede now that there are things about myself that could change, although I haven't much hope that they will. But just the "could" is an improvement for me.
Baby steps. I am condemned to baby steps. I think that might be my consequence for wishing I would never be old.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
I want to be sitting around a campfire with this guy and the beat up old Martin he bought from the shady pawn shop on Fifth and Greer. The name of the song hooked me, but it's his "ancient-ness", or something like that, that makes me keep watching and listening. I think he's lived it all. I'll bet his guitar could tell tales.