(as in if)
by Else
it’s only everything you ever cared about. what does it matter? it’s only what gave comfort to a dead 2 year old. why can’t you just leave that world, leave it all behind, like everyone else?
because I need to SING GOD DAMN IT
I have heard my voice, and I know that it is good. so why the fuck won’t it come out?
it’s stuck behind the sobs I can’t let out. it’s stuck behind the laments I can’t express, everything we all know but cannot say.
I got a strange idea back there. something I heard in a song. grace, something amazing called grace, could make the blind see. there was a story there, about someone who cured blindness. he preached forgiveness. grace. could it be me?
one day, when I’m old enough to speak for myself, could I take this GOD DAMNED patch off, these glasses that pinch my temples, and let my eyes just work? I know it’s just my brain making them suck, and that my brain can be rewired. that’s what the patch is for.
can I believe a person could patch my brain instead? he’d need root, but that’s fine. we trust him, right? ah, no, no not anymore. a percentage of his priests went all uncle ernie. a percentage of everyone trusted did back then; we’ve certainly heard of all the teachers and politicians too, right? who has repented?
anyway, it’s not about that. it’s not even about the damned eye. if I hear the song enough, I don’t need to read the lyrics to join the chorus. I never could make sense of the notation. but I can walk back in after decades, tears clouding my eyes, and know “for the beauty of the earth” by heart. but I can’t. fucking. sing.
I can’t sing, because you will hear me. you will hear the pain in my voice. you will hear my dissonance. you will hear everything I don’t know how to put into words. I’ve heard some songs, some lyrics that make sense to me. You’re not gonna like them.
You didn’t even like that I wanted to sing “joy thou beauteous godly lightning / daughter of Elysium”. I didn’t have the translation yet, but I had someone who spoke German, and had an English teacher who could’ve helped with the scansion. but then it would be about something other than the God half of us don’t believe in anyway. at least until we got to “brothers o’er the stars unfurled / a loving Father must reside”, but getting that far would take some Faith.
I know I deserve some blame. my whole life, I’ve been taking all of it. I’ve been thinking there was something wrong with me that killed what we had. maybe there was. but I went back recently, to the next one down the River, and there was not a single God damned person of my generation there. maybe it was a bad week, but I don’t think so. I think you lost all of us.
there’s nothing wrong with me. this is how I’m supposed to be, in a land of make believe that don’t believe in me. ask your kids where that’s from. maybe one of them listens like I do.
I’m coming back. not to save you, but to save me. I need my damned voice back, and the best way to get it is to be kind to the people who stole it. God is dead, but still I have faith you’ll return the favor.
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