Crux

Yesterday I posted my own poem written in response to Peter Steele’s heartbreaking “Crux”. Here, as an additional kind of tribute to my old teacher, is a musical setting of the poem that I wrote and recorded. Steele’s words, from his liturgical sequence, “A Season in Retreat”, are included below for you to read as you listen.


Crux (From Peter Steele, “A Season in Retreat”, Marching on Paradise, 1984)
 
                        Seeing you go
Where the dead are bound, and having no resource
To twist those timbers out of their lethal course,
            I want at least to know

                        What I can say
Now that the boasts have blown away and even
The cursing has grown faint, while the pall of heaven
            Abolishes the day.

                        I was never wise
In word or silence, never understood
The killer in my members, thought of good
            As what one might devise

                        From scraps of evil.
How can I learn a way for me or mine
To stand beside you? Vinegar, not wine,
            Is all we give you still.

                        Among the dice
And the dirt, with more of shame than love to show,
All that will come to heart is ‘Do not go
            Alone to Paradise.’

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