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Children's Work
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Dessa
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1
My father was a paper plane, my mother was a windswept plane*
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My little brother is nearly twice my age, he taught me how to meditate, I taught him how to read.
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I grew up with a book in my hand, I got these dark circles before I turned ten.
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Heard my mother with her friends worry it was something she did, to get such a serious kid.
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But I've learned how to paint my face,
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How to earn my keep
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How to clean my kill.
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Some nights i still cant sleep,
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The past rolls back, I can see us still.
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You've learned how to hold your own,
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How to stack your stones,
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But the history's thick.
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Children aren't as simple as we might think.
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Before you came along i was a lone cub,
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Fell in love with language, tried to tell the grown-ups
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About the storm clouds, the weather in my head,
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Hadn't heard the word for melancholy yet.
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Then you came in five years behind,
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We thought you couldn't talk, turns out you were just shy.
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Mom said it was serious, dad said you'd be fine.
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I thought you were the prophet of 1989.
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You were so tender, we thought something was wrong with you.
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So patient, we thought that you were deaf,
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you were so solemn, so tiny but so ancient.
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Ma took you to see doctors, you scared her half to death.
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And I made you a library of tiny books with spines 2 inches high.
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You didn't say too much,
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But your smile taught me how to quiet down my mind.
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But I've learned how to paint my face,
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How to earn my keep
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How to clean my kill.
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Some nights I still can't sleep,
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The past rolls back, I can see us still.
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You've learned how to hold your own,
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How to stack your stones,
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But the history's thick.
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Children aren't as simple,
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As we'd like to think.
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You slept in my bed, and if I kept quiet
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I could hear all the voices in your head.
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When the wagon tipped,
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I prayed over your body, I asked God to take the damage out on me.
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10 years later he finally gets the memo, sent it to accounting,
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and knocked out my front teeth.
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But you came to, and took my hand,and held my eyes and...
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Me and you, had a long walk home, so we decided not to cry.
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Now we've got a grown up love,
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And I know that's how its supposed to be.
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Same old story, mom gets Easters, lets dad have Christmas Eve.
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But I won't pretend I don't remember,
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How unusual they were,
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The little mystic and his handler.
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All some children do is work.
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I've learned how to paint my face,
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How to earn my keep
56
How to clean my kill.
57
Some nights I still cant sleep,
58
The past rolls back, I can see us still.
Dessa: NPR Music Tiny Desk Concert
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