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lyrics
When I was 8,
my grandfather took apart a clock
to see what made it tick.
He carefully laid out the pieces
on a table with a tight white cloth,
slowly laying out each tiny gear,
each softly coiled spring,
each wooden cog and dowel in order
and said that "Time is like a puzzle
that we spend our whole lives trying to figure out.
But time is not a puzzle you can solve.
It's the careful movement
of a thousand pieces,
of a million people,
of a billion possibilities,
and it unfolds as it is told
and we hold onto it's experience.
Set to the tempo of our heartbeats,
to the flutter of our breaths,
to the rise and fall of our chests,
to our best and worst ambitions,
to the wisdom of those we allow ourselves to love
and whose wisdom we allow ourselves to be moved by."
When I was 18,
my grandfather was taken apart by a doctor
to see what made him tick.
He was carefully laid out on a table
with a sterile white sheet,
and was pulled apart piece,
by test,
by specialist,
until they tapped into place their diagnosis;
Trigeminal Neuralgia,
or as it's more commonly known,
Suicides Disease.
Affecting the nervous system of the afflicted,
It feels like lightning bolts across cheekbones.
He would tuck me in at night under clean white sheets
and would whisper, "Son,
everyone of us is like clockwork.
Every movement,
every motion...
is clockwork."
When I was 28, my grandfather was laid out in an all white coffin
lined with loose white silk.
And the people whose lives he had moved
walked up and put in little pieces of their lives
that he had affected them with.
He told me that on that day,
the tears that I saw would not be sadness.
They would be the water that he had sent from heaven
to wash away our pain.
He told me that day,
the last time my little hand touched his big hand,
that it would be my time to make sure
that the clocks
kept
running.
Poet Douglas Kearney and composer/producer/drummer Val Jeanty link up for a a compelling LP that feels like the written word come to life. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2021
