Yesterday, to get from a bus station to an airport, I rode an elevated train through Chicago. I really, really enjoyed seeing spots which no one visits – lonely rooftops, broken backs of aged buildings, fenced-in patches of littered warehouse yards, walls and windows far beyond human reach…
I saw gang symbols painted in out-of-the way places. I saw useless metal fences topped with spirals of barbed wire hanging carelessly, failing to protect their abandoned treasures. I saw trees somehow alive and still clinging to tiny rectangles of precious grass, like flowers unexpectedly watered within this man-made countryside of concrete, pavement, brick and plaster.
Later, I was with a friend who had written a tune for which she had no lyrics. I thought of some lyrics based upon the day’s journey. I want to preface my “song” with the explanation that I have a personality which seeks solitude and is fascinated with abandoned places. In this rap I am trying to express that God is different: He is far more interested in being with human beings than in where they have once been.
Here’s my song:
Space is where I want to be, up on top of buildings, seeing landscapes left by rough hands - lunchbox litter yawning widely, singing on behalf of owners, “I won’t be here any more.”
Symbols tell of past adventures, speak of brazen anger. Spirals set on barbed wire fences warn of old defenses.
Can God be found on such abandoned lofty ground, singing,
“Space is where I Am can be, sighing over buildings, whispering to trees enclosed by concrete, ‘I placed comfort in your shade’”?
Can God be found on such sad warlike battlegrounds, singing,
“Souls are where I want to be, to follow rough men to the weathered Tree so carved by barbs of anger just to see that fences aren’t enough to keep out Love, Who’s found in shadows underneath those outstretched branches”?
Yes, God can be found in such forgotten lonely places, singing.
I LOVE this.