Three Artist Challenge Chapter Two: Iron and Wine

My second step in the snowy footprints of a greater artist is in the steel-toed boots (speculation) of Iron and Wine.  Here's a song to listen to during this post.

This was not my plan.  To be honest, my second artist was going to be the great John K. Samson who was the first indie musician other than my David to entrall my little jelly heart.  And yet, the track spinning in my head the day I sat down to write my newest song "Small Planes" was not "My Favorite Chords" or "New Name for Everything" or even "Elegy for Elsabet".

It was "Jesus the Mexican Boy" by Iron and Wine.

Recently, David and I came home on one of our days together and David just wilted.  We'd been out in the snow, running to the church so David could practice with the music directors for two pieces they were to perform that Sunday.  He had a fever.

Not wanting to go home, wanting to stay with me, he rested the remainder of the day while I gave him some fever reducer, a cool washcloth for his neck, and checked his temperature every so often.  I loved taking care of him and I feel badly about saying that because he was so sick.

While he rested, I watched his face.

That was the beginning of this song.

"Small Planes"
Half-Hearted Elephant

Ezra’s fever is spiking.
Sees hanging paper planes over his bed.
His face like pennies he rubs with ketchup to burnish
In pain, but he finds solace,
Like small planes find love in the angel tread
Because the Carmex on his nose smells like Mommy’s purse.

On the small paper airplane away he goes.
And the wind that blows him is warm and smooth.
No snow angels gave him this sickness, he knows.
In the wind’s hands… “If anything, I love you!”

Ezra’s mommy is smoking
Over a bowl of soggy Fruit Loops. Lets
The embers douse in the milk but Ezra fears ashes
Will burn baby sister’s lashes,
Car seat on the table where all day she‘s left.
For their health, her yo-yo promise to quit rehashes.

When the carton of Camels
Is dumped out the window, there’s hope, and yet,
The next withdrawal comes before they’re happy again
A half-hour later she says
“Fish them from the snow. Don’t care if they’re wet.
Don’t care if it’s cold, and death draws plans on your skin.”

On the small paper airplane away he goes.
And the wind that blows him is warm and smooth.
No snow angels gave him this sickness, he knows.
In the wind’s hands… “If anything, I love you!”

Ezra’s fever is growing.
Stands on his bed, picks the plane, broken string.
His room falls away as the paper plane takes wing
Glorious red Exit sign
“Mistreatment you’ve known, but!” the Father sings:
“If anything, I love you! I love you, if anything!”