Sadie, white coat,
you carry me home.
And bury this bone,
take this pinecone.
Bury this bone
to gnaw on it later; gnawing on the telephone.
Ans ’till then, we pray & suspend
the notion that these lives do never end.
And all day long we talk about mercy:
lead me to water lord, I sure am thirsty.
Down in the ditch where I nearly served you,
up in the clouds where he almost heard you.
And all that we built,
and all that we breathed,
and all that we spilt, or pulled up like weeds
is piled up in back;
and it burns irrevocably.
And we spoke up in turns,
’till the silence crept over me
And bless you,
and I deeply do.
No longer resolute,
and I call to you.
But the waters go so cold,
and you do lose
what you don’t hold.
This is an old song,
these are old blues.
And this is not my tune,
but it’s mine to use.
And the seabirds
where the fear once grew,
will flock with a fury,
and they will bury what had come for you.
Down where I darn with the milk-eyed mender
you and I, and a love so tender,
is stretched-on the hoop where I stitch-this adage:
“Bless our house and its heart so savage.”
And all that I want, and all that I need..
And all that I’ve got is scattered like seed.
And all that I knew is moving away from me.
And all that I know is blowing like tumbleweed.
And the mealy worms,
in the brine will burn.
In a salty pyre,
among the fauns and ferns.
And the love we hold,
and the love we spurn,
will never grow cold,
And I’ll tell you tomorrow.
Oh Sadie, go on home now.
And bless those who’ve sickened below,
and bless us who have chosen so.
And all that I’ve got,
and all that I need,
I tie in a knot,
and I lay at your feet.
And I have not forgot,
but a silence crept over me.
So dig up your bone,
exhume your pinecone, my Sadie.