I don’t know what broke you my son.
I thought you were invincible.
I wish that moment could be taken back. But… You made it permanent. The note was struck and you know as well as me that when that mallet hit the gong… you can’t take it back. You were off. Wrong. Early. That note was never on the paper.
Humankind, it is said, cannot bear such reality.
But that is what we have to do.
And so it is in the air… a question of soul and hear… the ring of loss fading to a vibration in the chest of your survivors. It is the moment that anchors me to the past.
But I will make sense of this If it drives me mad.
Like a rag tattered in the wind. The bits have flown..
I don’t know where I lost you.
Not now. No. Please God, no. My son is dead.
But, I know, I know, I know… exactly what that means.
Your brokenness has become mine. Your insomnia calls to me. And the voices that tormented you? They are there… I don’t hear what they are saying… just blending with that ringing of the gong in silence. They survive you.
And Death? The shock like shattered bone and the splash of blood behind my eyes
We all died a little with you. But yet we all survive you.
A bit of us, the phone will always ring at midnight with the bad news.
I gasp for breath in wanting
This is all wrong. This is all of me that is left.
The tightness in my chest and that dryness in my mouth that steals the voice.
I don’t know what broke you. And I know I never will. And so I write this.
Where did it go? That restless beat
Your shaking leg and tapping toe
I hear it in the silence
In the slam of doors and drawers and the list of broken things
You’ve broken them all…
Such a loud silence: That vacuum
I don’t know where your energy… that endless flurry of motion- I don’t know where it has gone… or how it has
Becomes the darkness… the empty silence. How can that be?
Don’t tell me not to cry, not all tears are evil.
Where is your laughter. Where are your questions?
The large hole…
And I never thought I would fall in the smoke with ashes on my head
With that sound of howling buried in my ears. I guess no parent does.
You, my child were meant to survive. Survive me.
To live and breathe and watch for waiting…
Do you want me to sing?
Waiting for the cool mist of morning.
I want your hand. Your voice. Your eyes. To rock you and soothe those tears. And then watch your life play out like the rest of the album.
I have lost everything in that moment. And so much remains seemingly unchanged. And I don’t know exactly what. I have my memories and all the pieces look the same.
Grief has revealed me.
I don’t know my son, what broke you.
But I survive. And breath the word why under the sighs that are my mornings
And the dawn rises alone. And I survive you.