Demeter's Daughter (and Persephone)

[Guest guest]

Dear Linda,

 

That song is so apt.

 

I would love to hear it sung 'real time'.

 

I sometimes wonder in wonderment, how right we get it when we are in real

turmoil. Why evading the turmoil if it gets us to fully understand...

reality. So that

we will long for the ONLY way out... and in...

 

You understand the work I do... In my nightlly trips through that

'no-men'sland' of illusiveness, the realm where no one ought to be,

because it is not even there...I hear songs like yours.

I see gestures that flow from those lyrics and we reach for each other...

 

When C.W. Gluck wrote his Orfeo and Euridice

http://www.atrecordings.com/frontsite/LabelArtistAlbum/Album.asp?album=alb_c

hrist00

he gave it an happy ending, rather than the usual hapless and moody blues...

 

\/\/

\/\/ X /\/\

/\/\

 

Dear Linda, you sang:

 

Demeter’s Daughter

 

Blood is thicker than water;

water may turn to wine.

I am Demeter’s daughter,

and this blood is mine,

this blood is mine.

 

I could be some kind of monster,

claw myself to sleep in the night.

Living an archetypal disaster,

and teething on knives,

teething on knives.

 

Oh, can’t your hear your daughter calling,

show me the way to go Home.

I’ve tried to fly, but I am falling,

and hell is just a metaphor

for what I can’t own.

 

I’ve cooked my flesh on the fire;

I’ve burned my way through the night,

trapping myself with desire,

and feeding on lies,

feeding on lies.

 

Oh, can’t your hear your daughter

calling,show me the way to go home.

I’ve tried to fly, but I am falling,

and hell is just a metaphor

for what I can’t own.

 

And oh,

will you give me comfort?

Will you give me shelter

from the storm?

Will you give me something

I can believe in?

Will you drop some crumbs

so I can find my way Home?

 

Blood is the sea of my body,

this flesh, my boat upon the waves.

The light of the moon has brought me

close to the grave,

too close to the grave.

 

Oh, can’t your hear your daughter

calling,show me the way to go home.

I’ve tried to fly, but I am falling,

and hell is just a metaphor

for what I can’t own.

 

And oh,

will you give me comfort?

Will you give me shelter

from the storm?

Will you give me something

I can believe in?

Will you drop some crumbs

so I can find my way Home?

 

© Linda Talbott 1982

[Guest guest]

Hi Wim,

>You understand the work I do... In my nightlly trips through that

>'no-men'sland' of illusiveness, the realm where no one ought to be,

>because it is not even there...I hear songs like yours.

>I see gestures that flow from those lyrics and we reach for each other...

 

What is the work you do? Sounds like you're working on clearing the astral

(2d) plane?

 

Love,

Dharma