February Benediction
A folk song about the human spirit and peach preserves.
A friend of mine asked me to join an eight-week songwriting challenge and for week three, I wrote a song called “Peach Preserves”. Feel free to listen to the demo as you read along.
The prompt for week three was “preserve” and I could not help but think about what the word means in the context of our broader American culture. Of course, that made me think of the word, “conservative” and I noticed that I did not really know the difference between preserving and conserving but I hear them used interchangeably.
Conserve: The action of prolonging the existence of significant objects is generally called conservation.1
Preserve: All actions taken to maintain an object in its existing condition, minimize the rate of change, and slow down further deterioration and/or prevent damage are part of preservation.2
The following song fell out of my head as I meditated on the social and spiritual differences between conserving and preserving something. My attempt, rather subconsciously, seems to make the argument that intentional quiet, rest, simple faith, and the healing power of nature are all preservatives to the human spirit while hurry, prejudice, fear, and apathy rob the human spirit. At the very least, it was a fun thought experiment and I got to play the banjo. That’s a win for me a loss for my neighbors, and thanks to the internet, now yours as well.
Enjoy!
Peach Preserves A poplar tree stood in front of me And I swear saw a face. In the long bark and the meadowlark Sang hymns in the quiet place I never earned the pretty fern And her stories by the river Told me tales that I’m sure I failed To show mercy that delivers And I long to go back home To a place I don’t deserve To the land of sacred love And peach preserves. I’ve wondered how, Old Miller’s cow Could keep his family fed In the winter song that sang so long By the kids in their featherbed. But Miller’s wife, nearly all my life Spoke tongues on Sunday morning Where a certain few strong armed the pew In the face of hellish warnings And I long to go back home To a place I don’t deserve To the land of sacred love And peach preserves. This city’s fate is full of hate For the folks I should be loving And the metro crown ain’t black and brown It’s either gold or good for nothing I’m sick and tired of the uninspired On these streets of blandish gray There ain’t a home for love in Rome And I’m searching for a way And I long to go back home To a place I don’t deserve To the land of sacred love And peach preserves. Perhaps I stand buried in the sand And I’m grasping for a shovel A glimpse of grace in the poplar face Made my feet begin to shuffle. I’ll take a chance, and maybe do a dance For the Lord is full of good And I’ll tell a joke to the city folks And go laughing in the woods And I long to go back home To a place I don’t deserve To the land of sacred love And peach preserves.