OK. NOT he who shall be obeyed, but the pussycat with ‘the helmet that scares the bejaysus out of me’ is asking, for question 9 of the 25 day music challenge, which song I associate with hope. Oops, hold on. Need to insert a little image here. Every other bugger has it.
And I will figure out how to put this fecker in my side bar. Makes life so much easier when things are organised. I aspire to organisation. Aspirations. Got to have them.
I thought about this all day.
Back and forth. In between other bits of things like work and weans.
And, at first, I thought of ‘I Will Survive’, because most hope is a wish for something in the face of adversity. And that particular song is a kind of ‘get-it-up-you’, sort of finger to the north wind type of song. Well, it is if you live where the north wind raises your kilt and blows round your nethers, irking every part of you that should be warm and cosy.
Then I came home from work and had a rethink.
And do you know what? I changed my mind. Woman. Prerogative.
Now, I’ve posted here before about my wish that if I could be any sort of creature I wanted (apart from a woman which, obviously, would be everyone’s choice) I’d want to be an eagle. Mainly because it can fly. And it’s gorgeous. And it is master/mistress in its own world. Why would anyone not want that?
Then. I had another thought. I’m not really worthy of being an eagle. Eagles are powerful, magnificent wing-beaters of immense proportions in their world. They are majestic. They demand and command the skies. They are the pinnacle of birds. And answer to no one.
I do. I answer to life. To responsibilities. To commitments. To so much. An eagle is therefore my metaphor for escape when I can’t cope. It’s my mercy bird. Please don’t eat me. Save me.
Then I got to thinking that I don’t want majesty. I want mercy. For all the times I’ve been a shit. An unhopeful, desperate, fall to my knees, gawd-somebody-help-me sort of shit.
Then I thought I’d have a wee nap cos I was up to all hours last night planning a lottery win with TD. (They’re on, btw, TD! Two nights worth!)
Then my brain went, ‘Aye! You think so?!’ Give me all this gear to work on then think you’ll wake up to a wee poem, ready made? No sleep for you, china. Have it now or not at all.’
This came to be.
shale shifts beneath my tread,
i flail and stumble,
a rumble from beneath, within,
this mountain that i scale
pours forth its scarlet
and bleeds its heat through soles.
I fall. I kneel.
raising eyes, i spy a distant image,
nearing, circling, searching for its prey,
its majesty knows mercy
and i mumble, then cry unto its
eye to make its way
to where i’ve risen, on this journey upwards,
on shaky legs, with stoic heart and hope,
and, just when all seems lost to fear and reason,
it dives and lifts,
i’m airborne and i cope.
the wings beneath my essence
are much stronger
than the wind beneath my own
when all seems bleak,
heavenwards i raise my heart
and mind and spirit.
Inner core is known. No need to speak.
So, ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ it is. Only, most days, I fly without wings. Depending instead on the wings of others, in whatever form, to raise me up.
And, on a slight aside here, TD. One of your other contributors commented in a post that it was becoming more difficult.
I know where she’s coming from. Unlike my self-imposed A-Z mythology challenge, music permeates everything.
It’s in every part of our lives, from the first arse-rocking rhythm that a babe sways along to, to every piece ever heard in the course of our lives that ever meant anything to us. That’s a lot of music. Tons of the stuff to try and filter to something that encapsulates your questions.
But, do you know what? It rocks.
From the moment of thinking, ‘This is the one’ to the realisation that, ‘No. This speaks better for me.’ Quite a feat.
And I do so like a challenge that seeks to condense.
How many days left? Apologies to all the bloggers I’m not reading as frequently as I would. Blame the guy in the mask. And my own need to rise to a challenge. Aspirations. Got to have them. 😉