Disappear From What We Can’t See
“I don’t think you understand/how much winter takes out of a person.”
If you live in an environment like Canada you know deeply what it means to survive winter. It is a duality to be part of your environment when it tests your stability so relentlessly. In winters such as the one we are experiencing this year, there is a collective withdrawal: you can see it in the faces of the commuters on the bus that they are just holding on, using every moment of sunshine as a reminder that soon, (soon?), this will end.
Disappear From What We Can’t See is a song emerged in this state of being. It is a song that came to be watching “the storm accumulate through the storms”–storm windows at my parents’ home. There is a little of the philosopher’s quandary present–inside looking out; outside looking in. Appearances. Storms are not purely the outcome of weather systems. Storms develop.
There is depression in this song. There is hope too. What the “day reveals… from the night” is often a release, a cathartic release, a coming to terms with what we bury to survive. There is a spring, if only we can hold out for it. And when winter refuses to loosen its grip…Well, we look around the bus on our morning commutes and see what the irony of the Canadian condition really does to a person.
LyricsSee the storm accumulate through the storms,
accept we’ll dig out in the morn;
if we’re lucky we’ll be frozen in.
Accept what we can’t change, dig in. Disappear. Red wine with abandon, no consequence,
snow drifts will cover what’s better left
in the gutter, swept up in spring.
We disappear from we can’t see. Disappear. Morning, head throbbing, we come to realize,
day reveals our shadows from the night.
Not even this snow can cover our pain;
accept what we can’t change. Accept what we can’t change. Accept what we can’t change.