I took the flag down
as soon as you were in the ground
and kept it for myself,
but I don't take your slippers off,
though they do slip off a lot --
too much to fill.
And you taught me how to yell
and when not to.
I still can't tell
which I should do right now.
And you taught me to boil water in eggshells
to make the ghost confess:
yes, he was a child,
but it was now so long ago,
and it's impossible to know
what we have witnessed.
And, with a small wood-carving tool,
you taught me more than I learned in school
or anywhere:
how to bore a hole in things,
fill the absence with false dreams,
and let it slowly burn
to smoke a salmon we once caught
(although the meat's begun to rot)
slow and low
and long-since longing for a song.
But you taught me to boil water in eggshells
to make the ghost confess:
yes, he was a child,
but it was now so long ago,
and it's impossible to know
what we have witnessed.
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024
Michelle Stodart’s folk music captures hope in melancholy, addressing the transformational aspects of the most challenging times. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 3, 2023
Folk artist Josienne Clarke revisits music from her back catalog, infusing these lonesome songs with a new luminosity and drive. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 18, 2023