Lock-keeper

[vaneramos]

The Eramosa River last week


For two weeks I've had an inexorable earworm, "Lock-keeper" by late Canadian folk singer Stan Rogers. Days passed before I realized it shared something—a melodic line, chord progression, I can't quite define it, perhaps only a feeling—with "I have loved," (RAM file) the last movement of When We No Longer Touch. They both reveal a sense of choices made, opportunities forgone, and the inexpressible pull of a romantic bond.

Last night's concert by the Rainbow Chorus was the most exciting I've participated in. We gave a fair performance, struggling with several cues, always recovering within a measure, but the requiem was powerful and unusual, with strings, flute and vocal soloists adding richness to the experience.

Having Danny in the audience raised powerful emotions for me. When We No Longer Touch is about AIDS and death, tracing stages of grief to hope. I have never felt such loss, but relate to passages expressing longing and acceptance. These feelings characterize living apart from my lover. I also realize, despite popular mythology, love is not forever. As part of life, it's essentially ephemeral.

Rogers loved travelling and performing, but his song shows he felt the sacrifice involved. Maybe I relate to that, too.


Lock-keeper, by Stan Rogers

You say, "Well-met again, Lock-keeper!
We're laden even deeper than the time before,
Oriental oils and tea brought down from Singapore."
As we wait for my lock to cycle
I say, "My wife has given me a son."
"A son!" you cry, "Is that all that you've done?"

She wears bougainvillea blossoms.
You pluck 'em from her hair and toss 'em in the tide,
Sweep her in your arms and carry her inside.
Her sighs catch on your shoulder;
Her moonlit eyes grow bold and wiser through her tears
And I say, "How could you stand to leave her for a year?"

"Then come with me" you say, "to where the Southern Cross
Rides high upon your shoulder."
"Come with me!" you cry,
"Each day you tend this lock, you're one day older,
While your blood runs colder."
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your life for one hour of home.

Sure I'm stuck here on the Seaway
While you compensate for leeway through the Trades;
And you shoot the stars to see the miles you've made.
And you laugh at hearts you've riven,
But which of these has given us more love or life,
You, your tropic maids, or me, my wife.

"Then come with me" you say, "to where the Southern Cross
Rides high upon your shoulder."
"Ah come with me!" you cry,
"Each day you tend this lock, you're one day older,
While your blood runs colder."
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your life for one hour of home.
Ah your anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your whole life for just one hour of home.


I have loved, by Kris Anthony,
based on poetry by Peter McWilliams

And through all the tears
and the sadness
and the pain
comes the one thought
that can make me
internally smile again:
I have
loved.