A new song being born: Angelita

Antigua, Guatemala  8AM Sunday, Feb. 10, 2013

I wrote a song lyric yesterday that captures a bit of what I’m thinking and feeling on this particular trip to Guatemala, which must be about my tenth time here. I’m thinking about how the places we encounter literally become a part of us (and yes, I really do mean ‘literally’). And I think that extends, at least metaphorically, to how we become each other through our relationships, whether nourishing or oppressive (or bits of each).

I’m about to head to Quetzaltenango from Antigua. We’ll be visiting a school in Pachaj, an hour north of Xela, tomorrow, to see a recently expanded school that PEG helped out with the construction project.  Life is good, and rich, and painful and hopeful, all at the same time, eh?  Much to celebrate in every day, but maybe especially in this one.

The lyric will doubtless be re-written, but here’s a draft:

Angelita

The ground beneath my feet became the tree that stands beside me
An avocado’s hanging from that dusty roadside tree
I’ll eat that avocado with my breakfast in the morning
And the ground of Guatemala will become a part of me

They’re burning off the cane fields ‘cause it’s almost time for harvest
Those leaves will slice you bloody, so it’s best when they’re not there
You have stirred that very sugar in your Guatemalan coffee
It inhabits your own body, like this smoke hangs in this air

Don’t tell me it’s too far away, you’ve got no real connection
When it’s closer to this moment than the steaming cup you hold
Am I my brother’s keeper? No, I’m just my brother’s brother
And the family’s got some work to do to love each other whole

A burlap bag rides heavy on the bent back of an old man
His skin is thick as leather and his body knows that weight
In my country we complain our cup of coffee’s too expensive
But don’t say that to a man who trades a dollar for a day

Don’t tell me it’s too far away, that these are not our problems
That these people do not matter, that they aren’t bought and sold
Am I my brother’s keeper? No, I’m just my brother’s brother
And the family’s got some work to do to love each other whole

La pequeña angelita is smiling from a window
In a wall that’s slowly crumbling, but is painted brightest blue
And that smile draws forth another from my troubled heart and spirit
And it breaks them both wide open, and I’m changed to someone new

Don’t tell me it’s too far away, that this is not your family
That these people do not matter, or the stories they have told
Am I my sister’s keeper? No, I’m just my sister’s brother
And the family’s got some work to do to love each other whole