I admit it, I attend my village parish church
of an irregular Sunday. It is the only place,
locally at least, that I can hear live music,
and join in, in all the right places.
The ragged harmonies and missed notes
that I add to invoke for me my earliest,
and longest admired musical heroes,
God bless them, The Grateful Dead.
In all they did they had faith in each other.
Through the music they wrote and played,
they trusted in the power of humility
as they sought an audience for life,
for the music they made, and an afterlife
where their songs would still be played
long after they could play them,
too many of the band were dead.
It seems strange to find life in an place
so outwardly moribund, but a hereafter
of some sort waits for everyone of us.
I can only hope mine is led by Gratitude.
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