Another child, his eyes he hides
Behind a sideways glance;
To be relieved of shamefulness
And given half a chance.

But crippled we stumble forward
Feet bruised by awkward stones
Bump blindly ‘gainst each other
While crying for a home.

How can we come together;
Release each other’s pain
Embrace each other’s right to love
Make harmony again?

Come travel through all time and space,
Through lifetimes here and past,
Explore the reason for the pain,
And bring some peace at last.

January 11, 2009 Pamela Holm

I found this in an obscure old backup file on Pam’s computer, December 9, 2000. – HH

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I found just one computer-printed copy of the music which is covered with her handwritten notes, plus a rough, incomplete handwritten draft. The notes suggest to me that she performed the song at least once in circumstances that allowed her to also sing “Another Bright Star“, which she wrote for our mother’s funeral in 2014. The two songs depict different relationships with a dying person: one professional and one personal. The copyright date is 2007, but the performance must have been in or after 2014, by which time she had the software to make a computer copy.

The lyrics were published in 2018 by the Orleans Writing Group as a poem, reproduced below.

In a writing workshop in 2014 (apparently, as per the “Writers Block 2014” note in margin) Pam made note of some possible changes, presumably from feedback by another participant who didn’t like the two-syllable line endings. In particular, see the note in the margin: “Consider 1 syllable ending 2nd line.” On her printout of the music (reproduced below), it appears that she tried to apply the changes to the original tune. It seems that she made some edits to the poem version published by the Orleans Writing Group, which was used by Allison Calvern in her article about Pam.

I’m posting Pam’s marked-up version below for those who are interested. There’s also a clean version I made with the original words. The singer may choose which version they prefer. Miranda Lever sings the original words in the video below. Repeating the second section is another option. I hear an instrumental solo for the first part of the repeat, with the voice resuming at measure 26 as Miranda does, or measure 30.

Video

I recorded my friend Miranda Lever performing the song in the same church in Mahone Bay where Pam (and all present) sang “Another Bright Star” at our mother’s Memorial Service. – HH

Sheet music

Lyrics

Marked up lyrics

Marked up sheet music

Poem

Edited version published by Orleans Writing Group, 2018

The post Sing Me a Song appeared first on Pamela Holm 1960-2019.

Stage craft for my dog
     meant following the scent of liver,
Delivered to the tune of “come Toto”
I dressed in black, portraying an alter ego, green-faced and lusting for revenge
     Cruel in her use of power through poppies, magic and monkeys
“You and your nasty little dog” I chanted night after night
     snatching up my little pup as if she were fodder for a witches caldron
     cringing that I should say such words to my little furry love

Winnie took naturally to the stage
Type cast at adoption’s first glance by my thespian step-daughter
     I waited in the wings for her chance to claim her fame
And fame came as eager interviewers plied the director for information
     about the canine actress taking the floor
“Is she well treated?” animal watch-dogs barked
Audience members murmured “I came to see the dog”
A star glowed over her giant leopard-spotted throne

For a mournful divorced step-mother
     who had longed to be a theatrical duo with one of her daughters
     Winnie took the stage and trotted to triumph

                                                                                                            October 25, 2017
                                                                                                            Pamela J Holm

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Do you remember when you knew me before?
It was another time, another place
Reach deep in your heart, reach deep in your soul
Find truth in our love and grace
I was a lady of no great degree
You were a gentleman true
We had no chance to become one together
But we knew what to do:

Chorus:
Next time around, I’ll be with you then
Such was the vow that we shared ‘neath the tree
I said to you and you said to me
We’ll come together in freedom to be
Next time around.

Do you remember the next time we met?
It was another time, another place.
You were my mother, held me in your arms
Rocked me in love’s embrace
We were a family of fourteen kids
You were amazing with me
Loving us all through our tumbles and falls
You taught us the way to be.

Next time around, I’ll be with you then
Such was the vow that we shared ‘neath the tree
I said to you and you said to me
We’ll come together in freedom to be
Next time around.

So many times we have been close this way
Through life after lifetime of love
Thanking the angels, at closure of day
Sometimes with Buddha or Christ’s love or Way
Through all times and places,
In love’s trials and graces;
The seasons call our hearts together again

Do you remember when we shared the same mom
Again another time, another place
We, in that life had such struggles to bear
Considering time and space
Outcasts and sisters encrusted with pain
We cast our small light mid the rain
Strengthened each other through night and through day
And in passing we were heard to say:

Next time around, I’ll be with you then
Such was the vow that we shared ‘neath the tree
I said to you and you said to me
We’ll come together in freedom to be
Next time around.

Now here we are together again
It is the present time, the present place
Where ever you are, in a heartbeat our souls
Find truth in our love and grace
My spirit is there with you deep in the night
Together we keep our lights true
Through laughter and sorrow we still come together
And always we know what to do

This time around, we’ve found each other again
Searching through forests to find that right tree
I recognize you and you recognize me
In coming together we set ourselves free
This time around.

March 2, 2008 * Oct 29, 2011  Pamela Holm

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Someone’s light is a candle in my window
Can it be you flying through?
What you tried to teach me, I never knew
I flew out of your life like a canary from a coal mine
To find my path to the sun
To become un-done
And then come home to you to see what I had become.

I am dumb in moments of despair
I crack open, a glimpse of light shines through
I come back to you to see who I have become

You true my path
Hone my trumpet playing
Carry my corner to the way of the foundation
You hurry my footsteps into other directions
Present a hope in becoming un-one.
You are one of my heart’s truest handshakes

Amid wind in the dustbowl
An “honour yourself, my daughter, You crack open with kisses”
We are pulled open through the wings of emptiness
A belly of bliss
Flows through cracks in my armour until it falls in pieces around me
Ego flies away
And I return to my I AM
At home with my stones and tunes.

Pamela Holm
November 25, 2016

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Reluctant feet shuffle along the sidewalk.
Out through open doors waft the perfumes of java and danish.

Gotta get downtown.
Gotta pour some coffee down.
Gotta somehow make it through the day.

It’s Monday morning.
Dreary-eyed and dazed,
the work-a-day world drags itself into the week;
drags its bones out from the weekend.

You’re walking the line.
It’s not too late to close your eyes
and be back in green peace and soul mending.
But it’s Monday, and the weekend starts to slip away.
By this time tomorrow mid-week will have gained its foothold
and the morning mind will already be full of office plans.
The city beat will have you believing its pulse is yours.
You’ll be pacing down caffeine drive like you own it.
You’ll be feeling one with the racing clock, thriving in the game.

Work time.
Deadline.
Get to the office well before nine.
Punch the clock. Wave to the boss.
Turn on the computer. Papers to sign….

But for now it’s Monday morning.
You have five more minutes to relish its tenuous touch.
Five minutes
then the weekend will slip away into a dream
and you’ll wonder if it ever existed.

Pamela Jean Holm
Salt Spring Island, BC 1998

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At first glance I admired
      your roundness
      p l u m p n e s s
      perfect pumpkiny form
      squatting in your glory on my counter

There was a Halloween when I would have tried to
      scratch off your scars
      cut them out
      demolish them

Now, at 32, I watch my lines set in
I feel my body moan and ache
I trace my finger along my lifeline
      Feeling heartaches, confusions and tragedies
I can look back gently on them now
Seeing how they pointed me towards
      Healing and joy

Your scars are my scars
I can forgive them now
      kiss them, caress them

And so, my sweet friend,
      Tenderly I bathe your weather-worn body
And see a laughing, wizened face
      start to appear for my tools to trace

Bless the hands that chose you
      And brought you here
            Chron’O’Lantern
                              Queen of the Pumpkin Patch!

Pamela Holm, Oct 30, 1992

Published in the Orleans Writing Group: 10th Anniversary Collection, 2008-2018

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Will I will?
Won’t I will?
To write a will?
Time might kill.
Time might thrill
Me until
Time comes
I need a will.

Will I will?
To whom I will?
Not much there
to fill the till.
But e’re Bill
Dispute Lucille
I guess maybe
I’ll write the will.

I will, I will,
I will until
The time when life
Has lost its thrill
Then cast my ashes
To the krill
And thanks ascend
“She wrote a will.”

Pamela Jean Holm, Nov 15, 2018

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Love slipped in
    through the back passenger window of an old jalopy
    a marriage built of flaws and fears, compassion and rescue
Love came
    in the form of a black-faced, fleet-footed furry puppy
The jalopy broke down and was left abandoned
We built a new car, Love and I
Love travelled as my companion over mountains and through valleys
Across land, water and sky we followed adventure’s scent together
Black face turned to white
Fleet feet slowed to trot
Then, in the cover of night, the small passenger window once again was broken
Like a thief, Death slipped in
Love slipped out
    on the trail of a new scent into the heavens

October 25, 2017
Pamela Jean Holm

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