Flowering Dogwoods was written with the inspiration of the early-blooming dogwoods of Mt Auburn cemetery. There is something errily beautiful about those early simple blooms hovering over the snow covered graves. That began my looking. Then I was sitting under that great willow at library park, with my grandmother who had just begun experiencing the devastating symptoms of dementia. I was sitting there in the park with her, and my brother, in Cambridge, right before my graduation from a Masters of Education at Harvard. She had made the trip all the way from California and I was aware that it may be the last trip she made to see me. I was strumming on my guitar singing the beginning of that song, there was sadness mixed all up with joy and connection and aching. I looked to her and said, what's the next line? She was loving and uncomfortable - I kept the question in the air and didn't bend. She laughed and sang back, “and I'm thinking of you, thinking of you." Something about it broke my heart and so it moved from major to minor. The song progressed and it clearly entered the space of sentimentality, loss, transition, the movement of time. Then to my brother, to his journey, to his healing. My gratitude for his answering of the call he did. And then to the great difficulty of looking into the truths we-- well, I-- have seen, and that I think we all see if we are courageous enough to open our eyes.
There are flowering dogwoods
and willows that weep
and honeysuckle
don’t she smell so sweet
There are strangers passing by
Ain’t it strange, ain’t it nice
and I’m thinking of you
thinking of you
Tell me
where does the time go
walking through history
of this mystery
that breathes flames and water
and heartbreak and praise
oh wrinkling time, day passin’ by
Long grasses
of library park
my father’s mother
and my blood brother
Mimi
losing her memory
wrinkles and forgetting eyes
that make me cry
Tell me
where does the time go
walking through history
of this mystery
that breathes flames and water
and heartbreak and praise
oh wrinkling time, day passin’ by
Oh brother it’s good to see you
oh and you’re alright
one-way to Lima
and you saw the light
cause the medicine man called
the medicine man called
and you answered
and you answered
Tell me
where does the time go
walking through history
of this mystery
that breathes flames and water
and heartbreak and praise
oh wrinkling time, day passin’ by
Oh the truth ain’t easy to see
and you can’t unsee
what you’ve seen
but you can give love
amidst the intolerable pain
of us losing this place
to greed and hate
for there is still hope
for there is still faith
and there is still love
to be made
under flowering dogwoods
and willows that weep
and honeysuckle
don’t she smell so
so sweet