THE THREAD | For those who carry us
I woke before the sun rose Lord and I am not coming before now you to pray
but to splash cold water on my face to anticipate the day to drink this black cup
last night in a restless fit of dreams I walked the streets beneath a thunderous dome
beneath electrified branches crackling across the clouds and a limb of lightning struck
my hip and threw me to the ground a friend lifted my body he carried me to safety
no he carried me to get help no he carried me to a high hill where we sat to watch
the distant edge of earth rise watch the horizon fold toward us like a closing palm
I began to cry out in my pain to cry out in my fear as he pointed to the edges
where land meets ocean now all curling over us in the sky yet not one pebble
or speck of dust or drop of ocean came collapsing down upon us but somehow
remained in place as if held as if somehow held and I am not coming before you
except to give thanks for morning and how it rises over darkness and arrives
to give thanks for all that is greater than fear greater than pain greater than even hope
for the lightning that did not come to destroy but to bless damn this blessed limp
for the places remaining among us that still hold firm and for those who carry us
for those who carry us who carry us carry us
~ ~ ~
Good morning, friends and readers,
It's been so long since I've written something for The Thread. Months have passed. Summer itself has now passed. Today is the first day of autumn, marking a turning of seasons that I usually want to infuse with hope and anticipation. And yet, as we continue living through a pandemic, I continue to see so many hopes dashed and anticipations turned upside down. What does another changing season actually mean?
Amidst global supply chain shortages, my warehouse of stock answers and certainties has been cleared out for months. My curiosity and sense of wonder have felt diminished. My hope has been on hiatus.
So lately I've simply turned to music. In recent months I've gone to live performances by Punch Brothers, the KC Symphony, Trampled Under Foot, Sara Swenson, Sleater-Keeney, and Te Deum. This weekend I'm heading to an outdoor festival to see Mavis Staples, Brandi Carlile, Joseph, and my beloved Natalie Hemby.
Once again, I'm remembering that most days I don't need certainty so much as I need a song to sing.
I've also been looking forward to sharing some of my own music from a stage once again. I want to invite you to join me for two concerts in October. One is a concert to share my own songs next Sunday in Hyde Park. The other is a ridiculous rock-and-roll display of unabashed nostalgia. If you live in Kansas City, I hope you can make it to one or the other . . . or both!
You can learn the details and buy tickets by clicking on these images:
Whatever this next season holds, I'll look forward to sending The Thread more regularly. Feel free to write back or pass along to others. Hope you're doing alright.
Peace in the midst,
Andrew