I tried to finish this for last week, but – a family emergency necessitated that I drop everything and fly South to be with my critically ill brother, Saul. (Coincidentally, I'd gotten confused about which week it was, so I happen to have said both 125 and 126 in my intro. I hope this'll be acceptable and still qualify.)
As I hurriedly packed before my last-minute flight, peripherally, I hoped I'd find time while here to finish putting this video together and submit before this week's deadline. However, we've been at Stanford Hospital for at least 12 hours each day. Both my head and heart have been entirely consumed as we painstakingly make our way through these hours, celebrating every small step forward as a big victory.
Though it took effort to remember and draw myself away long enough to pull this together, I finally made myself take a break to do so – just under the wire. I then returned to Saul's bedside to play him this song as his evening lullaby. I've been playing for him daily, hoping he can feel the love I'm beaming him with. Tonight he kept raising his eyebrows as I sang – that was enough for me to believe that he heard and appreciated it.
I wrote this song for myself, really – very much trying to perk myself up a bit. Yet the lyrics have felt oddly apropos when sung to my brother; his body is working so very hard to pull itself back together.
It may take months, but...I have to believe he'll be whole again.
As always, thank you for listening.
xo, Zippy
patchwork fixes holding you in
tattered and worn – too many times torn
growing weaker with each unraveling
long face and lonely smile
little rag-doll
the slow break-down of every thread
the first little tear – was easily repaired
but the hundredth was so much harder to mend
your heavy head is just too much to lift
little rag-doll
so timid and weary of breaking
too often crushed – it no longer trusts
the wisdom of its own steady beating
like you're too far gone to fix
like your wounds will never heal
and your life is valueless
with the strength of a warrior
and your beautiful, threadbare soul
is so worth fighting for
and sew yourself together again
with every stitch – remember this;
these are the marks of a heroine
yes – these are your battle scars, little heroine
...please don't forget; that's who you really are
...so much more than a little rag-doll
...remember...who...you are.
ps – please send prayers for my brother – he's currently stable, but still very, very sick.
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