Of Elmo and old poetry

Happy Labor Day weekend!  Speaking of labor, frankly, this has been a challenging year.  Exciting, but challenging.  A music blog is the tip of the iceberg, as far as what ONE Atlanta has in the works. There are a few of us working hard behind the scenes to get some exciting things off the ground, all having to do with the amazing community of artists to which we’re connected in this town.  We know that this our time to take these specific steps toward building up so many of the people in this town that we believe in.  I know that’s vague, but as I’ve said before, please stay tuned to ONE Atlanta.

 

Anyway, of all things, it was an Elmo puppet that got me thinking about an old poem of mine that applies here.  My youngest child was playing with it this weekend, and I recalled that I bought it for my oldest some ten years ago, while shopping at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco.   As I recall, that night my band Smalltown Poets parked our bus in an empty lot somewhere near the bay.  Missing my wife and then-infant son back in Atlanta, I penned this poem about the struggle of living up to the vision God can place on one’s heart and the difficult tasks that go along with it.  (There’s a link to explain one particularly obscure reference in the poem.) 

 

The bottom line is that the right path is often the hard path.  But there is strength for the journey if God has called us to it.  Maybe some of you can relate to this poem.  Writing it was certainly therapeutic.

 

What message do I bring so well

That He would dare illumine me

And set me on these distant hills

To make my pitch imperfectly?

Were I a man of bereft of muse

Directed to a simpler field

I’d grip the pulpit or the plow

And glory in such grace revealed

But with my charge and with its price

I’ll make my peace but day to day

And put each method to the test

To know full well that I obey

I would for such a call rejoice

Where lovers’ lips are ever kissed

Where sons awake to fathers’ hands

And little joys are never missed

But with my charge and with its price

I’ll make my peace but day to day

And put each method to the test

To know full well that I obey

You’ll find me where the waters part

Still leaving breadcrumb trails about

Or by the springs at Meribah

Debating yet to drink or doubt

But with my charge and with its price

I’ll make my peace but day to day

And put each method to the test

To know full well that I obey

Until I’m shown a better way