As the Choir Sang
Brandon Cook
On the day when we woke in 1939,
I stood in a choir room, surrounded by the voices of angels, as my best friend conducted them, and they spread their wings to sing for him
They sang a song called ‘Spirit’
“Christ on my left
Christ on my right
Christ by my side”
As tanks rolled through the countryside, and into town
With blood along the ground
They will claim the Christ
(Of course, they will claim the Christ)
As tank treads mark the mud
And cities roil in blood
Christ, have mercy
Christ, have mercy
Someday, I too will die
My friend may go before me, or behind;
And though I wonder how wise we will be, then,
When we tend to the end of things
One thing I know:
Some part of each other we will hold
Though we never fully put words to it
And never needed to, through all the years
It will be enough to know we tended to it, faithfully
A comfort against the grave
Against death’s dark sting
As angels sing
But I wonder what comfort have those who rise now, against the night?
And who holds the dying,
With the dark on every side?
Christ, have mercy
Christ, have mercy