Seattle 90, or A Poem Draft

(italics indicate lines to be sung)

Pie Jesu domine…

The first time I sang
about Jesus
was in middle school.
The choir was half Jewish.
Some kids dropped out before the concert
because their parents told them to,
some of their own volition, and some
because they wanted an excuse
to stop singing.

I was going to join them,
make a statement,
but my family knows less about picket lines
than the works of Palestrina,
and said no.
Music is holy.
Learn make your peace with it.

It was never about the lyrics. I know more
of the Latin Mass than half the Catholics
I grew up with, and it never seemed wrong.

Singing in a choir is the closest
I've ever come
to flying.
If given that chance,
would you stop to question
the makeup of your wings?

I've stood in grand cathedrals
built on the ashes of Jewish towns,
and felt forgiveness spread
across my shoulders
when I hear those arched ceilings
cradle the offerings of our voices.

My grandfather, a Holocaust survivor,
fills the house with Bach, Beethoven, Schubert and Brahms.

Freude, schöner Götterfunken Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuertrunken, Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

He doesn’t call this forgiveness.
He calls it human; a recognition
of something that exists above us.

"Some things, darling, you just can't live without.”

I was four when he began to teach me music;
twelve, before he mentioned G-d.

I’ve sung in churches
and Christmas concerts.
I’ve sung praise hymns
and Vespers. I know more
songs about Jesus than I do
about any of my own religion’s heroes.
And I know peace.
It was never about the words.

Deine Zauber binden wieder Was die Mode streng geteilt;
Alle Menschen werden Brüder, Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.