Sunday, April 3, 2016

Mere Mortals: Colosseum.

This is the start of the Side B portion of "Mere Mortals." If you're stumbling upon this for the first time and would like to know what in the heck this series is about, I'll refer you to my introduction from track one

Track Seven: Colosseum.

"All you want is to hear my voice, and how could you not? As long as your ears have heard I've been singing my songs of hope and woe. The sacred harmonies of reformation and regret, weaving my story into your bones. Weaving my story into your soul, you cry out, and how could you not? But I need a moment, just a moment to breathe, because today I can't find the man you love, and I'm armed to the teeth. All you want is to hear my voice, my body reacts like I have no choice. My best intentions possessed. Love resisting arrest. Wisdom held hostage at my own behest. There's no cover from the storm. Tears concealed in the rain, you pray for the end. As the clouds part and words return, we whisper 'goodnight.*' Let us slip into silent night where blades retract and no flames alight, now doused in silence while dreams abound until with the dawn solace resounds. **“The sun sets on the war, the day breaks and everything is new.'"

(*written by Greg Bennick, a guest contribution.)
(**Borrowed from 'Winning a Battle, Losing a War' by Kings of Convenience.)

A few nights ago our beloved four-and-a-half year old (she insists the 'half' must be included...) was having a hard night. She was stuck. We were stuck. It's hard to admit, especially because I may be a contributing factor, but she may have an anger problem, and her angry reactions make us all spin into a cycle. A cycle we're aware of even when deep in the throes and reacting in all the ways we know we shouldn't be reacting. My wife and I were stuck. Exhausted of all the reasonable solutions we could conjure, I felt like I was at the end of my rope. Something needed to change and we couldn't figure out what it was. Then, literally out of the sky fell a strobing zap of lightning followed by a game-winning strike in god's bowling alley. Her anger changed to fear. Her precious little brain was instantaneously reformed with a new concern. She suddenly needed to have us close again. Though it rained all night, that was the only boom of thunder we heard. As hoped for, she awoke requiring her mandatory 'family hug,' all smiles, like the anger and fear had never happened.

Colosseum, as opposed to "Coliseum," has won out as the preferred spelling to reference the Roman structure we all know mostly through movie depictions. The violence, the gore, the twisted form of entertainment that seems so barbaric to our sensibilities now, is gone. All that stands is a testament to what was. A testament to newer and kinder ways. A testament to our ability to forsake behaviors and ideas that no longer suit our understanding of how to treat each other. We still see variations of this barbarism in other parts of culture around the world, but not there, not in that place. 

The words of this song pay homage to my need to acknowledge weakness and struggle to find better ways when what I'm inclined toward simply isn't working. It asks me to retract blades when my mind and body seek to maim, to re-possess intentions when they're lost in the clouds, and allow love and wisdom to arrest when I've tried to turn them into history. It implores me to let the sun set on my wars so I can have a chance to renew.

(Image stolen from:

No comments:

Post a Comment