Falling Rose: A Song of Father and Daughter

When an old wound turns into a pearl

Each time an old wound is touched, I descend as a pearl diver. I pry open the hardened shell that once sealed itself around a grain of pain. A stone that scraped tender flesh, or cut open the soft heart.

Sometimes, the shell holds nothing. Only emptiness or fragments of rotten death. But sometimes, through the patience of time, through the quiet waiting of the soul, the wound has done its secret work. The stone has turned into a pearl shimmering in the dark.

This song is one such pearl. The wound between father and daughter drops deeper than one lifetime. It’s a well carved by generations.

So this pearl is not mine alone. I offer it as it came to me: salt-wet, unfinished, breathing.

Recorded on a phone. Untouched by polish. Held open to you …

Falling rose

The other dad, you told me you love me

And I felt the dam I’ve built to block you from my heart

For 40 years, I’ve longed for you, I miss you and I am afraid of you

Your words once have crushed my heart, like a falling rose, frozen in the snow

Your way is strong and your heart is tough

Like a rock weathering the stormy nights

But I’ve chosen my way out of your lane, into the dark water

It’s a choice I carry like a boulder on my shoulder

Now we stand under the same roof

Reaching across but can not touch

I stretch out my arms, but can’t open my heart

I want to be close, but don’t know how

And I don’t know how

Falling rose, frozen to the ground

Waiting for the warmth of the sun

Daddy is getting old

His hair turns grey

I don’t have much time left

I don’t have much time left

[Note: I will be presenting A Daughter’s Return to the Motherland, a photo & video storytelling of my recent 75-day trip to China and its emerging culture of ecovillages. A zoom event at 10 am, Feb 14th, Pacific Time. Register here.]