When I am Reticent at Best

I used to write music. When I was really, really down. It would pour out of me like sand from large gash in the side of a bag. It was all very angry, and yet never unforgiving. I have been more surprised at my capacity for forgiveness than most anything these past few years. I suspect that really has nothing to do with me, but some deep, instinctual need to be at peace (although I think Clint would claim I pick fights just for the hell of it sometimes… maybe I do). And yet it seems more than anything I have been warring with myself; a sordid battle, filling the inner crevices of my psyche with lies and weight that has swallowed up all my energy to be kind, be rational, and most of all: to forgive myself... sometimes even for things I haven’t done wrong.

Most times these days I’ll get a line out of whatever it is I’m feeling and it turns out Patty’s already done it. This is the song my soul is singing today.


Well a long night turns into a couple long years
and we’re walking around and around this trail of tears
Where the very loud voices of my own fears
are ringin' and ringin in my ear
It says that love is long gone
Every move I make is all wrong
Says you never gave a damn for me
For anything, for anyone

I just have this secret hope
That sometimes all we do is cope,
But somewhere on the steepest slope,
There's an endless rope
And nobody’s crying.

May you dream you are dreaming, in a warm soft bed
And may the voices inside you that fill you with dread
Make the sound of thousands of angels instead
Tonight where you might be laying your head

I wish you well... on your way to the wishing well...
Swinging off of those gates of hell
But I can tell how hard you're trying
I still have this secret hope....