I am here…and so tired.
But happy.
And look whose music has been released!?
I think I am in good company.
I am still under the weather a bit and fighting off a sore throat, which doesn't make singing easy as pie. But it hasn't rained in NYC, and it's sunny, although humid. I just had the best Greek food I have had in ages.
Tonight, one more show – with strings – and then I get to rest a bit. This morning I did an interview and a performance already.
But maybe it's time for a little poem, so I get a little perspective on things. I wrote this a year and a half ago. I am in a very different place now, in so many ways, although still some things ring true, when I read it. But reading it today brings me calm, somehow. Three more months until my birthday, of course – yes, I am a child of December. But it is ok to re-visit. The huge city outside is breathing fumes, crowds and buildings crowd the sky. I am a little anxious, because -well- the music I have made is now officially out there: no more hiding, waiting or theorizing. I am living it.
So I am reading the poem slowly, remembering a frozen December in Hudson, NY, and the quiet, and a church with piano, where I did some recording – and wrote this.
December Child
Words escape me.
It's only the night
and the frost in the air.
Morning soon; but for now
We'll paint the air
with our breath and laughter.
This winter chill
tastes like cinnamon candy;
it burns my throat
through a borrowed scarf
but the sweetness lingers.
Lights glitter in the trees
and cigarette smoke twirls
like a reminder
of another night long ago
in a foreign city
and a soft-spoken stranger
by my side
at the witching hour.
I have given all this time
to the land of sunshine
only to find myself craving the cold.
This is an end of a cycle
and a little death
but a new life is in the making.
I am afraid, but fear is for the living
and so is pain of loss;
as long as I am breathing
I will choose to run free,
searching and questing,
wearing my heart on my tattered sleeve,
taking chances.
Because I hope that somewhere
a fireplace has been lit for me
and so I follow the trail of bread crumbs
down a winding, twisty path
towards another's heart
and a new beginning,
half-wishing I was stronger and better;
half-knowing there is no destination.
I am a child of winter
tonight I feel it in my bones
and the crunch of ice under my feet
is an exclamation point to a story
I started writing a long time ago.
I am used to the ache of departures
and I am friends with empty spaces.
And just like then,
I am at the crossroads again.
Except now I am older
and a little kinder.
The page turns
and now it's snowing..
