"You learn to live on less."

The Crow
by: Dessa

That old crow came back today.
Sitting in my window, like a prophet,
out on the fire escape to say,
"Anger is just love, left out, gone to vinegar."
You wake up a stranger to yourself
and then you learn to live with her.
Sit in her clothing 'til you fill out her figure.

You know life's no bella telanovela,
the tightrope bows with your weight in the center.
The slide show, don't put all the pictures together.
You try to do it right though,
right though, until you let the kite go.
Death and romance, the riddles of our lifetimes.
Tryna get a slow dance, middle of a knife fight --
you get up and you, you give blood,
even on a good night. Even on a good night out.

You send signal, you listen for an echo,
and at the first splinters you run to tell Geppetto.
And in the worst winters the whole thing feels untenable.
Crow took me by the shoulder
and he told me, "Honey, don't let go."

Nobody fears the height, you all just fear the fall.
Go up to the edge some time
and prove your body wrong.
You land badly, but you crash standing.
You land badly, but you crash...

He took me to the workshop,
showed me where they built the bodies.
A blacksmith, a mason, a carpenter.
And in the darkroom, where the whole assembly started,
all the clothesline where the hearts hung to harden.
You come as fragile, soft machines,
and you're bound too fast, you're bound to grieve.
But you're built to balance on two feet,
so why you living this last year from your knees?

"Oh, please put me down again."

I know you lost a bet,
you had to catch your breath,
but when the worst relents
you learn to live on less.
You learn to live on less.
You learn to live on less.

You duck some, you take some square.
Your luck runs out, you're there in midair.
And when the big one comes
you'll know by the snare roll --
you can be too careful,
ignore all the scarecrows.

Time flies like the crow does,
no regard for the grid.
I can't ask you to show love,
but would it kill you if you did?

Nobody fears the height, you all just fear the fall.
Go up to the edge some time
and prove your body wrong.
You land badly, but you crash standing.
You land badly, but you crash...

-L (5/10/12)

[572]

[Learning how to live with death is like learning a new language. It's a lesson in immersion. One must use every medium to get herself there -- that is, to the place she's now living -- and to do it consciously. Deliberately.]

[It's true that the language of death feels awkward on the tongue, sounds ostracizing to the ear. But even when you're in a place that's surrounded by strangers and ghosts, time plays the game of familiarizing, even with you.]

[Now all songs you hear sing it; all sights you see show it; all words you read say it; everything you feel tells it. Somehow it's happened, and suddenly you're fluent in a foreign language. And looking around you notice, now you're the foreigner.]

[-L (5/3/12)]