I've written many times about my love for words, for music, and the beauty that I find when the two are joined in a perfect marriage. Of course it goes beyond just the work of the composers. That wonder I find is more than just another person's thoughts, it is how those thoughts and feelings call to my own. How deft are the words and tones at picking away my defenses and drawing out something truly personal? Some are quite gifted indeed.
There are many songs that have done this, cut me open and expose something I thought completely hidden. How disquieting and comforting, all at the same time, to find yourself in a shared experience with someone you've never met and are not likely to. It's those songs that I will repeat for days, that lead me to make word pictures of the lyrics on my kitchen table, that end up on burning pieces of paper, that flow from my mouth on sticky summer nights in the moonlight, that reveal another facet of myself, to me and to others if they are paying attention.
One song in particular set me about writing this morning. My Skin by Natalie Merchant. I wonder sometimes at this universal, yet somehow personal, journey of life. I think of Killing Me Softly, "strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words". My life, a piece of it anyway, is in these words.
I will refrain from sharing the whole of the lyrics. Here is a small part:
Oh, I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness,
Oh, I need this
I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel, sweet love of my life,
Oh I need this