Surrender

Surrender

 

When they come to take you, I hope they take you slowly.

If they try to break you, may you give them a good fight.

If they cap you with silence, may you go like thunder,

make them wonder who they thought you were.

 

When we are old and this feels like too much to eat,

there is still an open verdant sunlit place where you and I shall meet:

in the riverbed, in the overgrowth, with ESP,

feel the wind, now feel the weight of your bones.

 

I am not out of love today

I don’t know the strength to say surrender

 

I have walked the streets of sick cities with beaten feet and sodium lamps,

seen the tattered fragments of our dreams cling to corner bricks and sidewalk cracks.

From the mailbox, from the curb, in the darkening glow,

I know I don’t know where you are anymore.

 

I am not out of love today

I don’t know the strength to say surrender

 

I am not out of love today

I don’t know the strength to say surrender

 

There’s a kitchen table washed in sunlight and there is coffee on it.

You come in all drifting with sleep.

I hand you a section of the morning paper; you sit down to read.

 

I am not out of love today

I don’t know the strength to say surrender

Say surrender

 

(Life Underwater Music, 2000)

James O'Brien