Blind Will
Joshua Weresch
Hear the crickets sing songs of exile.
Inside, she's choking on the gag.
He is lecturing her on Schopenhauer:
It's just will, blind will.
In an apartment, above the forest,
She is pushing out a boy.
He is blind, and thus rejected:
It's just Will, Blind Will.
He can read the speech of stones,
The breathy vowels of sky and sea.
He can hear the speech of insects.
That was Will, Blind Will.
She and he share the same postal code.
They may as well be miles away.
Still he passes, listening for her.
It was Will, Blind Will.
Hearing crickets, he knows the reason,
And he knows what he must do.
The judge intones the gravest sentence
Upon Will, Blind Will.
By Monday
Joshua Weresch
By Monday, you may be gone:
Another empty bed, another sad song.
They'll wheel you out and another one in:
Another head laid, another head's grin.
It's been a hard road and here I am:
Eighty years old, can't sip from a can.
I want to hear from you, to pass on what I know
Of life and God and everything that goes.
By Monday, you may be gone.
Will there be tears or will we be strong?
It's a false conclusion, for water gushed from rock,
And with the tears of heaven, we remain a watered flock.
It's been a hard road and here I am.
Eighty years old, can't sip from a can.
I want to hear from you, to pass on what I know
Of life and God and everything that goes.
Field Days
Joshua Weresch
She has her hard-won beauty,
And her rough ways of grace,
The rarest flower in the minefield,
Where all the children race.
There are her field days.
Twelve-hour days in the restaurant:
Now she's hungering for air outside the mask.
One month shy of ninety-five,
Dying's the gentlest task.
There go her field days.
These days will pass in whispers,
The whispers of the grass beneath the hand,
Which bends and breaks in its good time,
And good time is all we have, don't we?
A woman running towards the sun,
Shadow lengthening behind.
Rarest flowers all together,
Each unique beauty shines.
Forget not the field days.
Forget not the field days!
Forget not the field days.
Pearl Diver
Joshua Weresch
Deep calls to deep,
But we're wading, wading in the shallows.
The pathways are steep,
But we're planning, planning in the valleys.
Everything we do has some nature of risk,
Betting it all on a seven-two hand.
This life is worth little, if it's played cautious,
But there's little we know, less we understand.
A word to the weak:
There's a place for you at the table.
No faithful feats,
Just come, as you're made able.
Everything we do has some nature of risk,
Betting it all on a seven-two hand.
This life is worth little, if it's played cautious,
But there's little we know, less we understand.
All songs © 2007 Joshua Weresch (SOCAN)
Shadow lengthening behind.
Rarest flowers all together,
Each unique beauty shines.
Forget not the field days.
Forget not the field days!
Forget not the field days.
Pearl Diver
Joshua Weresch
Deep calls to deep,
But we're wading, wading in the shallows.
The pathways are steep,
But we're planning, planning in the valleys.
Everything we do has some nature of risk,
Betting it all on a seven-two hand.
This life is worth little, if it's played cautious,
But there's little we know, less we understand.
A word to the weak:
There's a place for you at the table.
No faithful feats,
Just come, as you're made able.
Everything we do has some nature of risk,
Betting it all on a seven-two hand.
This life is worth little, if it's played cautious,
But there's little we know, less we understand.
All songs © 2007 Joshua Weresch (SOCAN)
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