Words © 1998 Megaera Vittum Fitch
Music & Arrangement © 1999 Gordon Bok
Meg lives in Vermont on the family farm; her house is the barn they used to store extra hay in. She has been writing since the teacher in her school encouraged her in the third grade. She is a member of VIBES!, a poetry and performing group working out of Vermont.
These are two of the many poems Meg has swapped with me over the years, part of an ongoing conversation. I took them on tour with me one fall, and during a 3-day layover in New Hampshire, wrote the music to them.
Our chorus has no director; when we need one we coerce one from the ranks. My thanks to Mimi Bornstein-Doble for guiding this particular song through all the work it took to get it there.
The Quasimodal Chorus
I.
Oh, I am calling, I am calling
My calling cross the waters
Cross the mighty waters
Downfolding clouds enfold me
Enclosing fears behold me
Oh, I am calling, I am calling
O, Nester cross the waters
Cross the mighty waters
Bring down your wings about me
To shield from them who'd rout me
Oh, I am calling, I am calling
O Mother, cross the waters
Cross the mighty waters
Storm between me and my fears
They prickle the hills with spears
Oh, I am calling, I am calling
O Flame-heart cross the waters
Cross the mighty waters
Circle me with fire now
Enfold me in your pyre now
Oh, I am calling, I am calling
O Child come cross the waters
Dance me down the silver shore
And lead me from the River's roar
Oh, I am calling, I am calling
O Singer, cross the waters
Cross the mighty waters
Ring me round with sacred song
And pull me from the darkened throng
Oh, I am calling, I am calling
O I will cross the waters
Cross the mighty waters
Lay my feet on the flaming foam
And ride my song through darkness home
II.
Chickadee of the clutching toe
Nutchatch of the creaking voice
Blackbird of the twirling song
Redtail of the longing fall
Birds all of marsh and meadow
I hear you, you
Am I yours – now? yours?
Ancient tree on the mountain brow
Windy curled, tough and small
Dead elm in the singing swamp
Summer home of bug and bird
Nut bearers, seed trailers
I hear you, you
Am I yours – now? yours?
Leaf meal, snake trail
Crow call, fox squall
Toad song, ant throng
Tree quiet, peeper riot
Duck nesting, beaver tasting
I hear you, you
Am I yours – now? yours?
Sudden cliff and long lake
Hard thin dirt, shaling stone
Glacial waste on the northern land
Spill of meadow, stream tumble
Stone walls of lost borders
I hear you, you
Am I yours – now? yours?
Running through the cold dew
Hunting cows in the misty swamp
Leaning on their warm sides
Trailing spring, green sour sweet
To summer stubble, dry and sharp
My ears loved, skin loved
Eyes loved, thick skinned feet
Loved their way over
Farm lands, up thawed brook
Through air of song and silence
Do you hear me, me?
Are you mine – now? mine?
Garden dust and roses bloom
Grape green to misty blue
Every berry of wood and pasture
Split sweet on lip and tongue
Do you hear me, me?
Are you mine – now? mine?
Coming here, homing here
Standing here on loved ground
The ground curves, rocks and sings
I rock and sing my home to heart
My heart to home to hope
To long, long, long hope
To wing and root and stone and stream
And sky and wind and star
And small, bright eye in naked wood
Laughing, laughing, laughing
Do you hear me, me?
Are you mine – now? mine?