Henry Stewart & Michelle Rosenblum
Oh mother, don’t cry for the want of a pen
Oh father, she cries to the gust of cold wind
She can’t find the son that she held in her hands
But your voice is right here in my heart and my head
Your words are like traces of fine silken thread
The tear in your eye as you look to what’s left
She tries to remember and cries to forget
She is living for something that isn’t clear yet
When the ocean is calling, the sand will caress
Say yes to the lingering traces
Say yes to the glittering past
Say yes to whatever this age is
Say yes to embracing at last
A woman should not have to outlive her son
A mother should not have to sing that last song
A child should be vital and present and strong
White Jasmine in the vase on the worn oaken stairs
Crimson tulips in full bloom when the weather is fair
Sweet lilac in the window, pedals fall through the air
Take me to somewhere that flows
Tie me with ribbons and bows
Surround me with lavender snow
Why not come to your breathing?
Why not swim in the sky?
Sift through these delicate ashes
All of the ashes are dry
One foot after another
Until the journey surprisingly ends
Drink in the rain with the thunder
Hold tight to the life that you’ve led
Say yes to the lingering traces
Say yes to the glittering past
Say yes to whatever this age is
Say yes to embracing at last
Pull up a dozen wild roses
Tear off the thorns with your teeth
Feed them some sugar and water
A sight that is precious to me
A sight that is precious to me