So how could it be ? How would it look ? What could the walls be made of ?
Now that we’ve finally become the invaders, the destroyers. What could my country be made of ?
And so we ask : How can I go home again ? Define home. Define brother. Define another endless day.
There are some things you can simply look up such as the size of Greenland, the dates of the famous 19th century rubber wars, Persian adjectives, the composition of snow.
Yes yes tonight I’m thinking about the survivors, like the wildebeast, you know these animals they’ve got those faces like Abraham Lincoln and those beards and they’re the ones galloping in all the prehistoric cave paintings and they’re so many of them ! And even now when you see them alive in Africa.
You have to ask, But have they changed ? Have they gotten smarter, better ? Well they are survivors. The most you can say is they’re still alive.
Ah ! That faraway high voice came to me like a shot. A revelation. A revolution. There were days and there were days And those were the days. Those were the days.
And now the clock points histrionically to twelve noon Some kind of north.
And o my brothers, and o my sisters, We came marching into their country and then left them their dead to remember us by.
Our linked misfortunes. And here I am on the outside per usual chirping away this incessant chirping and then night falls outside where variously named people live, their lives ruled by fear and impatience and lots of stiff Hawaiian drinks.
And another way to look at time is this : There was an old married couple and they had always hated each other, never been able to stand the sight of each other really.
And when they were in their’ 90s they finally got divorced and people asked : Why did you wait so long ? And they said : We wanted to wait until the children died.
Yes and that will be America. Broken up parking lots, rotten dumps, speedballs, accidents and hesitations. Things left behind, styrofoam, computer chips.
And Jim and John, oh they were there. And Carol too her hair pinned up in that weird beehive way she loved so much.
And Craig and Phil moving at the pace of summer. And Uncle Al who screamed all night in the attic.
Yes something happened to him in the war they said. Over in France. And France had become something we never mentioned. Something dangerous.
What are days for ? To wake us up. To put between the endless nights.
Too late to do what daddy wants. Too late to do what mother said. So is saying nothing saying yes ? And this is a Requiem for my lost brothers and for my long lost sisters. Another song for the seamlessness of time. You can hear it passing.
Dear old God. May I call you old ? And may I ask: Who are these people ?
And look ! Over there where the children are learning to smile by baring their teeth like small rats. So ravenous and so alone.
And the old people. Soon we’ll need more robots for you. More exotic medicines, more Mexican servants And for the young people more surveillance and another new laptop for each one of you with lots more memory and we must admit the life span of a hamster. Is it solid ? Is it a sea ? or will I fall through the ice again ?
Ah America We saw it. We tipped it over and then we sold it. And now look. My country in ruins These are the things I whisper softly to my dolls, those heartless little thugs dressed in calico kilts and jaunty hats and their perpetual white toothy smiles.
But losing your country is losing your heart. Losing your country is starting all over again setting out again, yet more traveling.
Is it solid ? Is it a sea ? Or will I fall through the ice again ? No we cannot save you. No we cannot save you this time or next time either.
But as I walk along this ocean floor There’s happiness all around. And it’s springing out of every crack.
And sometimes hatred can be beautiful and loving can be much too small.
And o my brothers ! And o my long lost sisters. That’s the beauty of it, that’s the fall. O my brothers ! And o my sisters ! That’s the beauty of it.
That’s the beauty of the fall.
Laurie Anderson
