advent journal: anthem

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    It’s late and I’ve been staring at the page for a long time.

    Nothing has appeared. My mind has wandered from John the Baptist to the Magi (they wander in and out of my thoughts all through Advent) to conversations over cooking at work tonight to who knows what, but none of those thoughts has taken the shape of a story and my mind is as tired from wandering as my body is from working. Yet, it did end up somewhere, recalling the chorus to Leonard Cohen’s song, “Anthem”:

    ring the bells that still can ring
    forget your perfect offering
    there is a crack in everything
    that’s how the light gets in

    From there I went in search of the lyric and the song, both of which follow. Tonight, this is my lullaby.

    Anthem

    The birds they sang
    at the break of day
    Start again
    I heard them say
    Don’t dwell on what
    has passed away
    or what is yet to be.
    Ah the wars they will
    be fought again
    The holy dove
    She will be caught again
    bought and sold
    and bought again
    the dove is never free.

    Ring the bells that still can ring
    Forget your perfect offering
    There is a crack in everything
    That’s how the light gets in.

    We asked for signs
    the signs were sent:
    the birth betrayed
    the marriage spent
    Yeah the widowhood
    of every government —
    signs for all to see.

    I can’t run no more
    with that lawless crowd
    while the killers in high places
    say their prayers out loud.
    But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
    a thundercloud
    and they’re going to hear from me.

    Ring the bells that still can ring
    Forget your perfect offering
    There is a crack in everything
    That’s how the light gets in.

    You can add up the parts
    but you won’t have the sum
    You can strike up the march,
    there is no drum
    Every heart, every heart
    to love will come
    but like a refugee.

    Ring the bells that still can ring
    Forget your perfect offering
    There is a crack, a crack in everything
    That’s how the light gets in.

    Amen.

    Peace,
    Milton

    P. S. — There is a new recipe.