PROGRAM
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TEXT & TRANSLATIONS
One Household High and Low
The dark around us, come,
Let us meet here together,
Members one of another,
Here in our holy room,
Here on our little floor,
Here in the daylit sky,
Rejoicing mind and eye,
Rejoining known and knower,
Light, leaf, foot, hand, and wing,
Such order as we know,
One household, high and low,
And all the earth shall sing.
--Wendell Berry
Bringing in the Sheaves
Though it's way past harvest time
Souls still toil and wagons rattle
Corn still stands in rank and line
And defies us all
We can see it in our past
Blood will out and join the battle
Though we work in different ways
We're bringing in the sheaves
Though we started from the land
Some do choose to roam abroad
The hand upon the gliding plough
Is not for everyone
Changing seasons help us see
That those who hear a different drummer
Though not in one harmony
Are bringing in the sheaves
What lay dormant in the soil
Is wakened by the kiss of summer
So the fruit of yesteryear
Becomes the year's new corn
Every stem has at its core
Part of those who went before
In turn they will be kept in store
By bringing in the sheaves
In conclusion bear in mind
What example has begun
What you do today in kind
Has power for everyone
True strong aims will pass along
To our daughters and our sons
So may they in years to come
Be bringing in the sheaves
--Jim Boyes
Sweetheart of the Sun
She stood breast high amid the corn
Clasped by the golden light of morn
Like the sweetheart of the sun
Who many a glowing kiss had won
On her cheek an autumn flush
Deeply ripened;—such a blush
In the midst of brown was born
Like red poppies grown with corn
Round her eyes her tresses fell
Which were blackest none could tell
But long lashes veiled a light
That had else been all too bright
And her hat, with shady brim
Made her tressy forehead dim;—
Thus she stood amid the stooks
Praising God with sweetest looks:—
Sure, I said, heaven did not mean
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean
Lay thy sheaf adown and come
Share my harvest and my home
–Thomas Hood
Los Pescadores
Walking on the beach is Vicente and his fishing net
Come here, come with me, come dance, dear friend
Very early my people go out to fish
They’ll bring back food for their home
Come to the beach, come along
We’ll move our feet (meaning we’ll dance)
(Translated from Spanish)
Sing About It
It's so sad. We don't understand each other yet.
How can this be when we've been living together so long?
So close to each other's beauty?
It's so sad. It makes me feel so bad.
I can't stand by anymore.
Gonna sing about it
Gonna sing it when I feel like cryin'.
When I'm uncomfortable & don't know why yet.
When I am guilty of the laissez-faire
– My ignorance of you laid bare
I'll talk to you before I raise my hand,
So you can call on me to make a stand.
Am I responsible? Are you responsible?
What are we responsible for?
I'm gonna look up from my own concerns
- Reach across the chasm of what I've never learned.
So wide, so full of burning–your eyes are turning to me now,
Saying 'It's time-it's way past time-to step outside the echo
Echo echo echo... chamber.'
Stop pretending it's alright,
Stop pretending this is not our fight.
Am I responsible? Are you responsible?
What are we responsible for?
Gonna sing about it.
--Moira Smiley
The Listening
Violence! Silence! Silence! Violence! Time!
Time has come for us to move on.
We must move on.
There is a new spirit rising.
I turn my back when I hold my tongue
I cannot be silent.
I cannot stand by and leave these words unsung.
I cannot be silent.
Trust and praise is reason to make better choices.
It’s our purpose to speak for the voiceless.
We must hear their broken cries.
It starts with listening.
This is the re-creation of the listening…
Interruption, oppression, suppression, exploitation, violence, control, hypocrisy…
Somehow, this madness must stop.
To be on the right side of the revolution
means it’s time we shift our view of peace so we can alter our evolution.
War is not the way.
Can we be tranquil and somewhat tame,
rational while we stay sane?
Solve the problem with a solution thereof.
That being unconditional love?
Love.
Not as a weak condition.
But as the key for the ignition of peace.
The time is now.
There is a new spirit rising.
We must act in the face of risk.
We must choose to transform,
and we need to be brisk.
I cannot be silent. I will not be silent.
It is time to close the gap,
and stop the distancing, stop inhibiting,
stop what we are witnessing.
It’s time to break the silence with the listening.
–Cheryl B. Engelhardt
The Sound of Silence
Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence"
–Paul Simon
Ella’s Song
We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes
Until the killing of black men, black mothers' sons
Is as important as the killing of white men, white mothers' sons
That which touches me most is that I had a chance to work with people
Passing on to others that which was passed on to me
To me young people come first, they have the courage where we fail
And if I can but shed some light as they carry us through the gale
The older I get the better I know that the secret of my going on
Is when the reins are in the hands of the young, who dare to run against the storm
Not needing to clutch for power, not needing the light just to shine on me
I need to be one in the number as we stand against tyranny
Struggling myself don't mean a whole lot, I've come to realize
That teaching others to stand up and fight is the only way my struggle survives
I'm a woman who speaks in a voice and I must be heard
At times I can be quite difficult, I'll bow to no man's word
We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes
–Bernice Johnson Reagon, using quotes by Ella Baker
Her beacon-hand beckons
Her beacon-hand beckons: give
give to me
those yearning to breathe free
tempest-tossed they cannot see
what lies beyond the olive tree
whose branch was lost amid the pleas
for mercy, mercy
give
give to me
your tired fighters fleeing fighting from the
from the
from
let them
i will be your refuge
i will be your refuge
i will be
i will be
we will be
we will
–text by Caroline Shaw, responding to the 1883 sonnet “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus
The New Colossus
Give me your tired, your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door
–Emma Lazarus
The Sun Never Says
Even
After
All this time
The sun never says to the earth,
“You owe
Me.”
Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the
Whole
Sky.
–Daniel Landinsky
Famine Song
Ease my spirit, ease my soul,
please free my hands from the barren soil.
Ease my mother, ease my child,
earth and sky be reconciled.
Ease my spirit, ease my soul,
please free my hands from the barren soil.
Ease my mother, ease my child,
earth and sky be reconciled.
Rain, rain, rain.
Rain, rain, rain.
Weave my mother, weave my child,
Weave your baskets of rushes wild.
Weave my mother, weave my child.
Weave your baskets of rushes wild.
Ooh.
Out of heat, under sun comes the hunger to everyone.
Famine’s teeth, famine’s claw on the sands of Africa.
Rain, rain, rain.
Rain, rain, rain.
Weave my mother, weave my child,
Weave your baskets of rushes wild.
Weave my mother, weave my child.
Weave your baskets of rushes wild.
Rain, rain, rain.
Rain, rain, rain.
–VIDA
Earth Song
Sing, Be, Live, See.
This dark stormy hour,
The wind, it stirs.
The scorched earth
Cries out in vain:
O war and power,
You blind and blur,
The torn heart
Cries out in pain.
But music and singing
Have been my refuge,
And music and singing
Shall be my light.
A lightof song
Shining Strong: Allelulia!
Through darkness, pain, and strife, I'll
Sing, Be, Live, See...
Peace.
–Frank Tichelli
More Waters Rising
There are more waters rising,
This I know, this I know.
There are more waters rising,
This I know.
There are more waters rising,
They will find their way to me.
There are more waters rising,
This I know, this I know.
There are more waters rising,
This I know.
There are more fires burning,
This I know...
There are more mountains falling,
This I know...
I will wade through the waters,
This I know, this I know.
I will wade through the waters,
This I know.
I will wade through the waters,
When they find their way to me.
I will wade through the waters,
This I know, this I know.
I will wade through the waters,
This I know.
I will walk through the fires
This I know...
I will rebuild the mountains
This I know...
–Saro Lynch-Thomason
Lao Rahal Soti
If my voice departs, your throats (i.e. voices) will not
I look unto tomorrow and my heart is with you
If the singer goes (dies), the songs will remain
Bringing together the broken and suffering hearts
–Samih Choukeir (translated from Arabic)
My Heart be Brave
My heart be brave, and do not falter so,
Nor utter more that deep, despairing wail.
Thy way is very dark and drear I know,
But do not let thy strength and courage fail;
For certain as the raven-winged night
Is followed by the bright and blushing morn,
Thy coming morrow will be clear and bright;
’Tis darkest when the night is furthest worn.
Look up, and out, beyond, surrounding clouds,
And do not in thine own gross darkness grope,
Rise up, and casting off thy hind’ring shrouds,
Cling thou to this, and ever inspiring hope:
Tho’ thick the battle and tho’ fierce the fight,
There is a power [in] making for the right.
—Text from “Sonnet” by James Weldon Johnson (1871-1938)
When I Rise Up
When I rise up
let me rise up joyful
like a bird.
When I fall
let me fall without regret
like a leaf.
–Wendell Berry