Album: Umbrella Artist: The Innocence Mission ----------------------------- And Hiding Away I prize the cloudy, tearing sky for the thoughts that flap and fly. For the staying in and reading by. For sitting under. I read a book of Madeline and her friends in two straight lines, in Paris, in a house with vines over its old face. Far, far is Paris......... and the sky is dark with mystery. Try, catch the thoughts that flap and fly in the clouds, tearing sky, that touch and stir and won't be tied- and try to speak them. I think of my old flower sky. Of us, when we thought we were spies. Of bobbing eggs in Easter dyes. Of walks in London. Try, try to hold my love for you, it knows no measure. This is a day for hearing bagpipes somewhere playing. This is a day for hearing sarabands and hiding away. Sky, I hold my tears if you do. Starling thoughts go over me. ----------------------------- Sorry And Glad together This flurry of plans is over, over. And I'm sorry and glad together. Our bustling house is sane now, sane now. And I' sorry and glad together. Didn't go by so quickly, Mary? I am missing our sewing in secret, making up his holiday. It's finally come around. It's been a long time, a long time. And I'm sorry and glad together now. Now we watch out of doors for May and the travels of summer ahead with, what will we bring? Thoughts of trains, thoughts of sea. Will they come? And what will we say? How possible everything is in this wondering, endless wait. And how sure is joy, and safe. In May I will say, I'm sorry and glad together now. ----------------------------- Umbrella I am going out now darling. Pass me my umbrella, darling. I wear it like a crutch, to the ground, like a shade and nothing comes down on me. I walk along side the drivers. How ever do they drive so bravely? When I still hear the bang ~ sudden bang in my head ~ and the scar runs my face. And on my hands, they held the wheel. And on my mind, it was distracted. And saved from scarring anybody else, I'm lodged between the could - haves, could haves. I want you to be proud of me, proud of me, proud. and how can you be? When I wear my umbrella like this. I dwell on myself like this. When I need to be reassured like this. You dance around with my umbrella. You dance around the obvious weaknesses. Around the room with my umbrella. You dance around the room with me. I see you in the mirror going by ~ Look at my happy face! See what you do for me. ----------------------------- Every Hour Here We ride our bikes around the circle in the cemetery, weaving. I wave up to you on the cross. Am I to come upon You suddenly like this forever? Happy, relieved that You are here and I can see You? You are like the ticket - half I find inside the pocket of my old leaf - raking coat. There all the time, all the while, forgotten. I so often seem to leave you in churches and other islands. and on my beads where I can see You, I can feel You. I take the ticket - half and put it on the table, saying, This is God and He's here through my comings and my goings. But I walk past the ticket - half, I walk past the ticket - half I walk past the ticket - half just as I've walked past the cross on our wall. Our self - importance grows so dazzling we don't see you. but Gentle Jesus, aren't You always, aren't You every hour here. ----------------------------- Evensong The day is over. And still so heavy on the mind: in flew glowing, smiling Mother, butterfly in yellow to join the frowning cactus crowd. Finding flowers ~ even there ~ to flutter around. I thought, isn't Mother grand? The way she flies and flies into the sting of the cold and the prick of the barbed wire. Isn't Mother grand to gladly fly and swiftly fly into the sting of the cold and the prick of the barbed wire. The day is over. And still goes passing through the mind: in came glowing, smilling Mother, sure and kind. To rouse us to give ourselves out and to cry, birth to warm intentions, worthless otherwise! Oh, the lives that brush against us, pass us by and by, the friends who may or may not come if we would first invite. Oh to open doors, to always gladly fly and fly into the sting of the cold and prick of the Barbed wire. ----------------------------- Now In This Hush O bless me. Am I going silent now? O have I overnight been emptied? If I could call these thoughts to come, to stand on this paper I could read what I mean. May I? May I? O bless me. Now I seem to come apart, to sink inside this overwhelming, what can I do? What have I made of all of these new days? And forgive my despair. Where is color this hour? Where is music this hour? Are they still going on somewhere? But where now, in this hush? Where are the words in this hush? And what am I? O bless us for we give our hearts to fear, for so we give our minds to worry. If I could brush this sorrow dust From off our faces (to see the, to see the, to see the joy again) and see our joy again...... May I? May I? O let us make a joyful noise resound. O let us make a noise and hear it. ----------------------------- Beginning The World. I was home by the winter. I was home from the school town, undecided. And questions came, like what did you say you're doing now? Well, I........... I had hopes for my music. And I imagined their faces said, well you can't do that, you silly thing, God, he gave me a brave heart. But God, he gave me a chicken head. And I felt I'd failed. I am always beginning the world, beginning the world. Aren't you bursting with butterflies on the fourth of September! Like you'll have to get on the bus in your tartan dress, with your lunch box. Though your body is twenty twenty - nine. Though your mind is an old thing. I mean, don't you ever sigh. I am always beginning the world,~beginning the world? I am always beginning the world, beginning the world. Always the same underdog stance under the same happy - sad sky, eternally crying, am I still shy? I am always beginning the world, beginning the world. I am always beginning the world, beginning the world, beginning the world. ----------------------------- Flags I have seen your garden growing madly. There I find you, hands in the earth. I have heard you talking with your children, on your level, never talking down. And I don't know how you cannot see where your gifts maybe found. You say you know no tricks, have no talents ~ isn't everyone supposed to have their own? Yes, but few are obvious. Few draw notice to those who possess them, like flags waving themselves. And you wonder how you cannot see that your gifts do abound. I don't know how you cannot see where your gifts maybe found. Do you understand when I say that your gifts do abound! ----------------------------- Someday Coming My someday coming child, I name and I re-name you. I make up memories for you of melodies and friends from books I want to give you and horse and buggy sounds outside. But of the someday coming world, I don't know, I don't know. There is so much I would keep you from if I, if I could. The heroes, selfish fools ~ they only want their freedom. The hero - makers' greed prevails. And we are all shock-numb and watch the shock increasing. And shame is something old, outgrown. And of the someday coming world ~ I don't know, I don't know. There is so much I would keep you from if i, if I could. Oh maybe you won't see my too self-conscious stumblings, my running from the phone, my fears. Because I can be very stong. say I can, say I can. There is so much to believe in. There are angel words to teach you. There is hope, my daydream child. ----------------------------- Joan So. I see their easels at the water from the window. I know his is not ~ as his is never ~ with them. Seven years I've watched them sadly, watch with them, understanding. Joan, my head hurts, my head hurts. Joan, I must close the curtain. They will come back in the evening. See the way the sky is changing! Can you see the color?, he would say to me. well, of course I see the colors. Sea is silver, red and white and ~ No! you don't look! You don't see! No, you don't look, you don't see. In the squares of sun slanted on the floor, slanted over my feet, Joan. This is how he painted me. A halo round me-like Our Lady! Bathed his brush in sun and blurred my faults away. Joan, the sunlight! The sunlight. Joan, I must close the curtain. ----------------------------- Revolving Man Ah, revolving man, don't you ever get ahead? All your days are spent in catching up the rent. Ah, revolve, revolve ~ don't you ever get a Sunday to read the paper and jump into leaves or water. You're laughing. Of course I'm laughing ~ I'm happy to revolve around my children, to revolve around my love. Ah, revolving man, don't you ever want to cry? All your nights are spent in catching up your breath. And the children need ~ well, they're always needing something. Growing out of clothes they grew into yesterday. You young ones don't believe in nothing but freedom for yourselves. Where are you getting ahead to? It's I who am sorry for you. And 'God is in his Heaven, all's right with the world. ----------------------------- My Waltzing Days Are Over/ Minta's Waltz My waltzing days are over, thank you just the same. I wouldn't want to embarrass you. You are so kind and I will remember this night for years to come. I am no fool ~ I have no romantic notions in my head. At my age I'm content to watch. So go on, go on.... My waltzing days are over, thank you just the same. I wouldn't want to embarrass you. But you are so kind. And I will remember this night for years to come.