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Therapy Hymns

from These Means Are My Ends by Jedidiah Crook

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about

This track was recorded at Jed's grandfather's grave

lyrics

Therapy Hymns

This is about burnout
about too short of wick.
About not enough candle wax
to form the flame’s width of a matchstick.

About cross stitch
ripped out for burnt bridges,
and the rivers frozen
always flowing underneath
never surfacing to feel the wind’s breeze.

For the feelings fading
lost in a whisper out of the room.
A candle’s lips
pressed between dry fingertips.
This is silence.

But come on, if we ever needed a metaphor for death
or a memorial for suicide,
we could always look up.
Every single one from Polaris to the Southern Cross
burns like a Tibetan monk in an empty street
screaming in absolute silence,
“See me! Witness this.”

Hold your breath, feel that heartbeat, hear that iron chest.

But you know I couldn’t make you love your own brand of beautiful.
You eternity, wrapped up in infinity,
a body.
Armed with artery artillery,
mapped with bloodstreams,
neuron synapse cartographers putting Lewis and Clark to rest,
if you would just rest.

Hold your breath, feel that heartbeat, hear that iron chest.
Until your dying death, infinite is less,
and tangibility, that bastard, is traded
for a telescope horizonless.

This is a thank you. To the hopeful of chest. May you never lose your breath.

So I penned these songs, written as therapy hymns,
a gift to be written, a gift to be given.

credits

from These Means Are My Ends, released January 30, 2015
Performance by Jedidiah Crook
Recording by Jeffrey Francoeur

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Jedidiah Crook New Hampshire

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