Some days are good,
others not quite so;
I need your song
in my darkness
to sooth the rough way
that waits up ahead.
Words from the Jagged Edge of Truth
Some days are good,
others not quite so;
I need your song
in my darkness
to sooth the rough way
that waits up ahead.
The storm hammers less severe now,
her heart less broken but for grace
these years carried with dignity
accepting of time and place.
By candlelight her story told
whispered in the humble night,
there is more there than can be heard,
treasure in her gifts and words.
She scorns not the gleaners field
nor that infertile soil
nor crumbs from the table fallen
or the labours of her toil.
See how the feather freely floats,
caught in the draft of spirit,
she is learning now its language,
is resting in its merits.
they speak without a chosen thought
They who hide the treasured gift
But she who earths the precious gold
Knows how soon the price can shift.
Oh stand with me, yes stand with me
Beside this drifting shore
Where the wind eats at the harbour
Where the rope is tied secure.
It cut her short and stole her breath
And broke her heart in three
The little ship is cut adrift
On the anger of the sea.
I caught her eyes and held her hand
and we watched the darkness fall
across the evening twilight
broken by the morepork’s call.
The chatter of the loom
Gives way to silence,
The cloth stitched
To a garment,
A baby born.