Accounting for the Self, Locating the Body
ISBN 9781915734808

Table of contents

DOI: 10.3726/9781915734822.003.0015

14: Crying holy7 (Reid, 2011)

She came to me in an autumn field

Somewhere west of here

At my feet, she laid a bone down

Old and bleached, on the dusty ground

I picked it up and held it close

Crows singing, Buffalo thunder ringing out

Then, I was running with the herd

Along the great divide between two worlds

Chorus:

I don’t know about the whole

But I know tears and bones

And all my broken pieces

And begging for mercy

I’m down on my knees

Crying holy

I had my finger on some kind of trigger

When I was young

I would wake up, wondering how I got there

And how I would make it home

And I never wanted to do what they wanted me to

I just didn’t know any other way

And I didn’t want to be good

It was just a survival thing

Chorus:

I don’t know about the whole

But I know tears and bones

And all my broken pieces

And begging for mercy

I’m down on my knees

Crying holy

I was never meant to

Live in the terrified shadows

Of all the tired and unrealized lives of the

People along my bloodline

And it’s good to recognize

All those hard places from where we come

We’ve got to see beyond the horizon

And look possibility in the eye

When I’m long dead and gone

And all those Crows and those thundering Buffalo

Will come rest on top this place

She’ll come back and lay down my bones

Chorus:

I don’t know about the whole

But I know tears and bones

And all my broken pieces

And begging for mercy

I’m down on my knees

Crying holy

Crying holy