I have seen the sun rise on the Atlantic
And have seen it set behind the lines of a sleeping mountain.
I have seen the dust storms invade from Arizona, mounting on the horizon
And I have seen the light of love in the eyes of men who likely swore never to love again.
I have kissed the earth in many states,
I have driven in snow, for better or worse;
I have a Volvo station wagon named Bernice.
My name has been uttered in passing conversations, in curiousities and wonders of
What ever happened to her?
My name has been screamed to the stars on high school revelry nights
My name has been whispered as a question, and as an affirmation.
I have written and recorded, remembered and revisited, and I have dwelled
Knee deep, in the realm of regret and should-have-been - but
Remember that I laughed twice as hard as I cried.
I failed in Oregon. I failed in New Orleans, and am
Failing in Central Florida - but
it's always behind the curtain freinds, around the bend,
And let it never be said that I didn't wait long enough
For the miracle to happen.
I have said refused to say I'm sorry, and I have begged for forgiveness
I have even let the most important things go
Because I didn't understand them.
I know the name of the anhinga, the yucca, the nutria, and at least
different words for snow.
I can tell you hello in Dine', goodbye in Dutch, and to go fuck yourself in French.
I apparently need to step it up.
I need to leave - but
It isn't so bad to go against instinct now and again.
My name is Emily
And I am twenty - five years old.