Pain, proof of life when all hope has left you
When you’re out of time and the knife twists too deep
And you’re desperate to escape the demons, the dark,
the never-ending abyss of circumstance
That has you closing your eyes on a freefall.
You come out the other side, invisible,
To find the dark swallowed whole
that torchlight, lightning bolt
The flickering candle in the dead of night,
Gone, extinguished, but for the billow of smoke,
Shadows reveal that steady glow of hope
Where you’ll find me at the end of your rope
Because I see you, now take my hand…
Issa stops speaking abruptly, picking up the harmony on my words without so much as a hitch as I take over,
I’ll be your torchlight, spotlight,
flickering candle in the dead of night
Through storm clouds, lightning bolts
You’ll find me waiting at the end of your rope
Arms open, reaching, voice broken, screaming,
I see you…take my hand.
I see you. (Take my hand)
I see you. (Take my hand)
Take my hand.
As the last notes fade into silence, I stand, remove my guitar, set it on the chair. I reach for Issa, but instead of going for my typical end of set kiss, I pull her in, bury my face in her neck, hold her tight against me.
The audience goes from silent to uproarious, an ever-increasing din of overflowing emotion reverberating off the rafters. I let it settle around me, warming me, rejuvenating me for the continued fight.
As quickly as the din increased, it stops, the new silence echoing in contrast as the familiar sound of lighting being extinguished grabs my attention.
Releasing Issa, I step back, turn slowly toward what is now a sea of torchlight in the abyss of dark before me. Issa’s hand grips my forearm briefly, then releases as she steps away.
I walk back to the front of the stage, gripping the microphone for dear life. My eyes burn, and I don’t bother trying to squash how the moment makes me feel as I whisper, “Remember, to look out for your family, your neighbor is not your enemy and for the love of fuck, keep your eye on the future. It’s not over. I love you.”
I walk back to Issa, who’s standing just on the other side of my makeshift living room, hand outstretched. Gripping her tightly I allow her to tug me toward the curtains at the back of the stage.
And, once again, I don’t look back.
