The Shadows in the Room

It was one of those moments when something came together so strong, so powerful, so unexpected. I was thrown off balance.

Late last night I was attempting to add a second vocal track to a scratch recording of a song I jotted while up in the mountains this past weekend. If you read yesterday's post, and I encourage you to do so, you know that the lyrics I pieced together find their genesis in a harsh story that is all too true.

Midnight. Singing a harmony line into the mic, I forget where I am and lose myself in the truth behind the song. Glass shatters, screams, violence. The bandit snatches more from a little girl than a few valued possessions; he grabs her slumber, nabs her sense of peace and security. Through eyes that refuse to blink, she gapes at the shards on the floor, sharp fragments of life that was whole just moments ago. In time, the gripping panic will fade, leaving in its wake a dull nag that will not allow much needed sleep to come for months and months. Fear remains.

As I open my mouth to sing, I sense the shadows in my basement moving around me, whispering the evils of the world in silent groans. I tremble. A lone tear departs the corner of my eye, encouraging a flood of others to drip to the floor. I am sobbing, weeping. And the recording is lost.

Or is it? You decide.

What you will hear below is a solid distance from perfect, but it captures the essence of the song's purpose. I hope it will remind you that even in life's most fragile moments, we can find a shred of courage as we sing 'la la la' to the shadows in the room.

My friends Ruthie and Ian work with 30 kids in an adjacent community. They keep a blog telling marvelous stories of justice and mercy. If you like what you are reading here, you will enjoy visiting Refugee Arts.