(Nicky Mehta)


Across that river through the orange squares of light

Past the streetlamp like a beacon in the rain

You've stopped in all this motion

You're heavy with news too sudden

You're breathing through this undertow of pain


And all your friends will gather soon

And you'll surface then to bring them through

You'll say "it's better this way" and "at least we knew"

But this practice in leaving

All these small moves to grieving

Does it ever really promise what's deserved?


You want to take him in your arms

And carry to the river

Find the boy he once was and row him home

You want a majesty restored

Find the place where love was born and let him go


Many Sundays passed since the day of his first leaving

You stopped asking for the rule to be reversed

And with the grace that follows those who know what love is

You held his hand and walked towards this strange rebirth

And as the friends gather round to bear witness

You struggle with the fight to find some peace, to make it worth it


You want to take him in your arms

And carry to the river

Find the boy he once was and row him home

You want a majesty restored

Find the place where love was born and let him go

Let him go