Now that he's gone Now the world has moved on Since he called my name nothing's the same As my sister cried He said, "Lazarus rise." To love and anoint Or just prove a point I'm the one that he saved I'm the one that he raised From a dark quiet sleep from peace of the grave I'm the one who owns much but that no one will touch Mothers see me and cry Dogs bare teeth as I walk by I don't see a veil between heaven and hell The truth is there's nothing but a warm light and singing But here in-between a voice haunts my dreams Martha does what she can but won't look at my hands I'm the one that he saved I'm the one that he raised From a dark quiet sleep from peace of the grave I'm the one who owns much but that no one will touch Mothers see me and cry Dogs bare teeth as I walk by I love the cool mornings I love a hot meal The pulse of the street night jasmine and clean sheets I can't sleep of rest I feel lost and hard pressed I wander these rooms still looking for you Now I ought to be grateful to drink from the grail But I don't be belong on either side of this veil I look down at my hands that are clasped in my lap When he left this world I thought he'd take me back... -- Carrie Newcomer, American singer-songwriter, from the album The Geography of Light Scripture reference: John 11:1-45, 5th Sunday in Lent
You can't always tell one from another And it's best not to judge a book by its tattered cover I have found when I tried or looked deeper inside What appears unadorned might be wondrously formed You can't always tell but sometimes you just know 'Round here we throw geodes in our gardens They're as common as the rain or corn silk in July Unpretentious browns and grays the stain of Indiana clay, They're what's left of shallow seas glacial rock and mystery, And inside their shines a crystal bright as promise All these things that we call familiar, Are just miracles clothed in the commonplace You'll see it if you try in the next stranger's eyes, God walks around in muddy boots, sometimes rags and that's the truth, You can't always tell, but sometimes you just know Some say geodes are made from pockets of tears, Trapped away in small places for years upon years Pressed down and transformed, 'til the true self was born, And the whole world moved on like the last notes of a song, A love letter sent without return address You can't always tell one from another And it's best not to judge a book by it's tattered cover Now I don't open them to see folks 'round here just like me, We have come to believe there's hidden good in common things You can't always tell but sometimes you just know You can't always tell but sometimes you just know --Carrie Newcomer (1958- ), American folk singer-songwriter
