Take What You're Given

Take What You're Given - Lucy Wainwright Roche

Seven sundays late for front steps

Sitting warm in the midday block

Little bare feet dirty forehead

I can see where your train will stop

At the point of several mountains

Sold from one to another tribe

Just a basket baby waiting

Towering at only three feet high

I know take what you're given

I know seen and not heard

You left me buckets of ribbons

Woven together by flying birds

Me and you crept on for hours

Right behind the big blue house

All the roots of all her flowers

So to feed all our creatures' mouths

She cried what have you done here

You girls are the devil's kind

I can't run any faster

Leaving all the battles behind

After dinner kitchen quiet

Hot air from the dishes washed

Just a sink light buzzing brightly

In the front room TV on

I know take what you're given

I know seen and not heard

You left me buckets of ribbons

Woven together by flying birds

And the church sings hallelujah

When you're sitting still and right

Peering just between two shoulders

Trying to see what the priest looks like

I know and also have you

I know all things were made

Lift me to heavier water

Just in case I can be saved

I will wait here one last morning

Shield my eyes to the blazing sun

If I scan the streets for warning

I can see when your train will come