I’m shooting pool in the other room while you teach piano, and it’s a real simple tune, but your praise is so sincere at what she’s learned.
And it’s gospel to me that your well isn’t dry, and despite all this weight you’re still able to find the strength to lift another up in your words.
Because I’ve been with you lately into hospital rooms, where our sanitized hands can’t find nothing to do and a smile has to fight such a strong gravity.
Although you said I’m a cure to the weight that you feel, I know we’re both learning more about how we both need to heal, so come closer child I ain’t going nowhere.
And I’ll step in, to every inch that you give, praying as I go.
We start to go deaf and we start to go blind in a city so loud, in a world without light, where all the demons get paid if they can keep us asleep.
We all have those dreams where we wake up so cold and we walk in the dark and think we’ve seen an old ghost, but God calls our eyes to keep open their doors.
Like that little boy’s face at the Pitt Meadows Parade, when his let-go hand let that balloon get away and he said, “Oh, Dad, look, it’s going up to heaven.”
It’s pictures like that and its pictures like these, where your hair’s in your face but it’s easy to see that the child beneath your skin screams, “I am alive!”
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