歌詞

For thirty years, the afternoon

Lay gold across our table

Our child laughed into a cup;

Small heels still missed the floor

My husband cut the supper bread

With hands that never trembled

We filled three bowls, we slept, we woke

We had all we could need

Nothing needed changing

We had everything

The light lay gold between us

Soft as a living thing

Nothing needed mending

No shadow crossed the wall

I thought the gold was lasting

It had not moved at all

One day an apple left my hand

And struck the kitchen floor

It rolled behind the pantry wall

Where no stair stood before

Down under roots, down under rain

It stopped against a door

Whose ancient wood was stitched with green

Like something I had drawn

I knew that door from one old tale

I used to tell our child:

Below the world, an angel waits

And answers when bells chime

I took the apple home again

The room shone on as ever

A thumb-dark bruise spread through the red

I had not seen one there

The soup stayed warm from noon to noon

The bread refused to stale

Our child's shoes fit year on year

No new notch marked the rail

The patch I sewed had never thinned

The light kept one old shape

The apple softened in my palm

The only thing that changed

I knew the weight above my face

I knew his cooling hand

The final breath had come and gone;

The next had never come

I knew our child had thrown two names

Against a field of stone

Then gold had filled the dining room

No one asked how we came home

Nothing needed changing

We had everything

The light lay gold between us

Still as a painted thing

Nothing needed mending

No shadow crossed the wall

It was not gold. It simply

Had never moved at all

I left them laughing at the table

And found the door again

This time its copper seam gave way;

The stairs went down within

Down under root and rain and room

Down farther than before

No angel waited at the end

One bell rose from the floor

A bronze bell taller than our house

Hung where the dark began

I pulled its rope. The sound became

A voice without a breath:

“Tell me what must change.”

“What did our child ask of you?”

The bell repeated two old names—

My husband's name and mine

“Are we alive?”

“You are answered.”

“Then tell me what is right.”

“You ask. I answer. That is all.”

The bronze fell still again

I climbed back through the copper door

Our child was laughing still

My husband set three bowls again

Beneath the window light

He touched my cheek. Our child reached up

And leaned against my knee

Their warmth made nothing easier

Their love made nothing clear

I told them of the two old names

And what the bell had said

Our child held tightly to our sleeves:

“I asked for you before

If morning comes and takes you both

Must I ask for you once more?”

My husband turned the apple's bruise

Beneath his steady thumb

We watched the light refuse to move

Until our words were done

At last, three hands closed on the fruit

That time alone had found

The three of us who once climbed home

Went down the stair together

Our child reached up and pulled the rope

The bell asked us again:

“Tell me what must change.”

“Let the apple bruise

Let supper cool

Let our child outgrow each shoe

Let silver find our hair by turns

Let night come passing through

Nothing here needs mending

Do not make another world

We have already had forever

Give this one a tomorrow.”

Nothing needed changing

Nothing here was wrong

The light was never made of gold;

It only lingered long

Nothing needed mending

We had everything

Then let the apple bruise tonight

Let's see what morning brings

The bell gave one low answer

And did not ring again

The gold slipped from the table

The first night filled the room

Our child asked, “Will morning come?”

I said, “I do not know.”

Between our hands, the apple browned

In darkness, soft and slow