COMING BACK TO YOU
Maybe I’m still hurting,
I can’t turn the other cheek.
But you know that I still love you;
it’s just that I can’t speak.
I looked for you in everyone
and they called me on that too;
I lived alone but I was only
coming back to you
They’re shutting down the factory now
just when all the bills are due;
and the fields they’re under lock and key
though the rain and the sun come through.
And springtime starts but then it stops
in the name of something new;
and all my senses rise against this
coming back to you
They’re handing down my sentence now,
and I know what I must do:
another mile of silence while I’m
coming back to you
There are many in your life
and many still to be.
Since you are a shining light,
there’s many that you’ll see.
But I have to deal with envy
when you choose the precious few
who’ve left their pride on the other side of
coming back to you
Even in your arms I know
I’ll never get it right;
even when you bend
to give me comfort in the night.
I’ve got to have your word on this
or none of it is true,
and all I’ve said was just instead of
coming back to you
THE CAPTAIN
The Captain called me to his bed
he fumbled for my hand.
“Take these silver bars,” he said,
“I’m giving you command.”
“Command of what? there’s no one here,
there’s only you and me —
All the rest are dead or in retreat
or with the enemy”
“Complain, complain, that’s all you’ve done
ever since we lost.
If it’s not the Crucifixion
then it’s the Holocaust.”
“May Christ have mercy on your soul
for making such a joke
amid these hearts that burned like coal
and flesh that rose like smoke.”
“I know that you have suffered, lad,
but suffer this a while:
Whatever makes a soldier sad
will make a killer smile.”
“I’m leaving, Captain, I must go;
there’s blood upon your hand.
But tell me, Captain, if you know
of a decent place to stand.”
“There is no decent place to stand
in a massacre,
but if a woman take your hand,
then go and stand with her.”
“I left a wife in Tennessee
and a baby in Saigon —
I risked my life, but not to hear
some country-western song.”
“But if you cannot raise your love
to a very high degree,
then you’re just the man I’m thinking of —
so come and stand with me.”
“Your standing days are done,” I cried,
“you’ll rally me no more.
I don’t even know what side
we fought on, or what for.”
“I’m on the side that’s always lost
against the side of heaven;
I’m on the side of snake-eyes tossed
against the side of seven.
“And I’ve read the Bill of Human Rights
and some of it was true,
but there wasn’t any burden left
so I’m laying one on you.”
Now the Captain he was dying
but the Captain wasn’t hurt.
The silver bars were in my hand;
I pinned them to my shirt.
IF IT BE YOUR WILL
If it be your will
that I speak no more,
and my voice be still
as it was before;
I will speak no more,
I shall abide until
I am spoken for,
if it be your will.
If it be your will
that a voice be true,
from this broken hill
I will sing to you.
From this broken hill
all your praises they shall ring
if it be your will
to let me sing.
If it be your will,
if there is a choice,
let the rivers fill,
let the hills rejoice.
Let your mercy spill
on all these burning hearts in hell,
if it be your will
to make us well.
And draw us near
and bind us tight,
all your children here
in their rags of light;
in our rags of light,
all dressed to kill;
and end this night,
if it be your will.
THE NIGHT COMES ON
I went down to the place where I knew she lay waiting
under the marble and the snow.
I said, “Mother, I’m frightened; the thunder and the lightning;
I’ll never come through this alone.”
She said, “I’ll be with you, my shawl wrapped around you,
my hand on your head when you go.”
And the night came on; it was very calm;
I wanted the night to go on and on,
but she said, “Go back, go back to the world.”
We were fighting in Egypt, when they signed this agreement
that nobody else had to die.
There was this terrible sound and my father went down
with a terrible wound in his side.
He said, “Try to go on, take my books, take my gun,
and remember, my son, how they lied.”
And the night comes on, and it’s very calm;
I’d like to pretend that my father was wrong,
but you don’t want to lie, not to the young.
We were locked in this kitchen; I took to religion,
and I wondered how long she would stay.
I needed so much to have nothing to touch:
I’ve always been greedy that way.
But my son and my daughter climbed out of the water,
crying, “Papa, you promised to play.”
And they lead me away to the great surprise;
it’s “Papa, don’t peek, Papa, cover your eyes.”
And they hide, they hide in the world.
Now I look for her always; I’m lost in this calling;
I’m tied to the threads of some prayer.
Saying, “When will she summon me, when will she come to me,
what must I do to prepare?”—
Then she bends to my longing, like a willow, like a fountain,
she stands in the luminous air.
And the night comes on, and it’s very calm,
I lie in her arms, she says, “When I’m gone
I’ll be yours, yours for a song.”
The crickets are singing, the vesper bells ringing,
the cat’s curled asleep in his chair.
I’ll go down to Bill’s Bar, I can make it that far,
and I’ll see if my friends are still there.
Yes, and here’s to the few who forgive what you do,
and the fewer who don’t even care!
And the night comes on; it’s very calm;
I want to cross over, I want to go home,
but she says, “Go back, go back to the world.”
HALLELUJAH
I’ve heard there was a secret chord
that David played to please the Lord,
but you don’t really care for music, do you?
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
the minor fall, the major lift;
the baffled king composing Hallelujah!
Your faith was strong but you needed proof.
You saw her bathing on the roof;
her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.
She tied you to a kitchen chair
she broke your throne, she cut your hair,
and
