the low anthem

when i go,
when i go,
sure don’t know
where i’m going.
i look up high,
i look down low.
sure don’t know
where i’m going,
when i go.

i set down the guitar
when the eclipse is
getting on to complete.
i know that she needs
silence to do her job.

don’t bust me on
copyright infringement.
i love you too much for that,
live your songs too deeply
to lose them now.

are you able to hear me too?

the dogs in the neighborhood
start to bark and wail,
and from my east-facing porch,
i take this as a call to prayer.
after a while, they too are silent.

look up to that hazy band of light,
that warms us, even way out here,
on the periphery. what is it like there,
in the center, with stars so tightly clustered?

in that old stone church,
portsmouth, new hampshire,
i saw that your pain was my own,
that distances only increase
in this lifetime, until we find
some way to close them.

and we are.
getting closer to it
every day.

just do your job,
and i’ll do mine.

i’ll do my best
to hold the line.

i started on this path, unaware of any
assistance i may have been receiving,
but i am listening now, lake woebegone.
everything is starting to make sense.
brilliant spheres of light we are,
drawn ever inward, toward
the common center, love.
you knew it from church,
but i found it the hard way.

oh my God,
oh my God,

charlie darwin, where are you now?
i set these tiresome codes
down where you lay.

oh my God,
oh my God,

and i am glad that i have done this,
in the presence of these young people.

there is so much more
than that cold, hard ground,
and You knew this,
even as You wrote the line.
I play at being cynical too.

I was in the air when the towers came down
In a bar on the 84th floor
I bought Philippe Petit a round
And asked what his high wire was for.
He said, ‘I put one foot out on the wire,
One foot straight into heaven’
As the prophets entered boldly into the bar
On the Boeing 737,
Lord, on the Boeing 737.
Hey little bird, would you be the one
To nest beneath my Gatling gun?
There’s nothing left I call my own,
Come down and build me a home.

I was in the bar when they rigged the towers
Trying to leave all my sins
The barmaid asked my order
And where my mind had been
I tried to recall the high wire
Philippe and his foot there in heaven
As the prophets entered boldly into the bar
On the Boeing 737,
Lord, on the Boeing 737
Hey little bird, would you be the one
To nest beneath my Gatling gun?
There’s nothing left I call my own,
Come down and build me a home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About marley engvall

peacefully dismantling the big lie. www.UnitedResistance911.wordpress.com
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