[Oe List ...] As we wake

[Jack and Louise Ballard]

As we wakeDear Tim,

Thank you for sharing your rich images with us again.  We need poetry and
music to heal and hope.

I'm reminded of the wonderful song you wrote for our Chris and Lisa's
wedding, "two souls joining".

You are a blessing.
Louise Ballard
  -----Original Message-----
  From: oe-bounces at wedgeblade.net [mailto:oe-bounces at wedgeblade.net]On
Behalf Of Tim Casswell
  Sent: Thursday, September 11, 2008 10:06 PM
  To: Order Ecumenical Community
  Subject: [Oe List ...] As we wake



  Dear Colleagues,

  On this 7th anniversary I thought I would send you my song lyrics again. I
think it stills feels relevant.
  I sang the song today at a small commemorative meeting at the Royal
Festival Hall.

  Tim

   As We Wake (after W.H. Auden)

  cold fires still smouldering on wall street
  while hope expires the day and night still meet
  in secret dread  we've all been waiting for
  dust clouds spread while flames still melt the core
  unable to forget what we just cannot remember
  the sweet smell of death clouds twilight in September

  towers burst in consummation of anger, truth and grief
  powerful penetrations sink in beyond belief
  calculated cruelty inclusive and precise
  the shocking beauty of the public sacrifice
  in the grip of that habit-forming pain
  channel flipping to see it all again.

  everybody's listening no one's got much to say
  except for reminiscing about what they were doing that day
  sad flag wavers know it's too late for the parade
  it passed by a while ago on the way to the crusade
  and everybody knows what we never seem to learn
  those to whom evil is done do evil in return


  meanwhile every lonely heart craves what it cannot own
  from the very start it's bred into the bone
  no universal love can melt this steel and stone
  that pious dove cannot sufficiently atone
  for each final message from each desperate mobile phone
  searching for a signal that we do not die alone

  defenceless in the night the world in stupor lies;
  little points of light as the lonely evening dies
  everybody's talking though few of them are heard
  something deeper than revenge seems to have been stirred
  just at the point of knowing that our hearts must surely break
  a cock is crowing three times as we wake.

  from the tunnels of conformity crowded commuters come
  in uniform deformity to some distant drum
  repeat the morning vow in the stiff compulsive game
  Everything Will Now Continue On the Same
  nothing can release them from the corridors of power
  nothing can be done for those who were not in the tower



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