Story: The things you notice second
Verse 1
You met me by my history,
my age, my name, my face,
the things I’ve done, the roads I’ve walked,
the words I use for grace.
But stay around another week,
and something else appears:
the joke I make when cornered,
the way I hide my fears.
Chorus
You don’t know me yet.
I don’t know me too.
There’s more here than the story
I first handed you.
Watch what happens when I’m angry.
Watch what happens when I’m scared.
Watch the sentence I defend
when something tender gets laid bare.
You don’t know me yet.
Good.
Let’s see what comes through.
Verse 2
Maeve shakes carrying teacups
and mutters at her hand.
Fifteen years of waking
didn’t make her body grand.
Jonah loses patience
at a meter in the street,
then laughs because enlightenment
has trouble finding parking sheets.
Chorus
You don’t know me yet.
I don’t know me too.
There’s more here than the story
I first handed you.
One day calm.
One day shaken.
One day certain.
One confused.
A living thing is moving
through every name we use.
Verse 3
Ravi knows the scriptures
and exactly where to look,
then Tess asks one small question
not contained in any book.
He explains when he’s embarrassed.
She talks until she’s red.
Daniel says, “I do that too.”
Maeve says, “Have some bread.”
Chorus
You don’t know me yet.
I don’t know me too.
There’s more here than the story
I first handed you.
Every label catches something.
Every label leaves things out.
Maybe meeting one another
means letting certainty wear out.
Verse 4
Tess says, “I came looking
for someone to explain
why I can’t predict tomorrow
or what happens in my brain.”
Clara says, “I feel things
and then stories gather round.”
Jonah says, “Sometimes the storm is gone
before the story settles down.”
Bridge
The awakened one gets irritated.
The seeker sometimes rests.
The beginner sees what experts
have carefully second-guessed.
The quiet one gets frightened.
The thinker sometimes knows
that understanding isn’t always
where understanding goes.
So meet me here,
not finished,
not captured,
not complete.
A history in motion
with mud upon its feet.
Quiet verse
Maybe I am anxious.
Maybe anxiety came.
Maybe I am lonely.
Maybe loneliness has no name.
Maybe I’m awakened.
Maybe that’s useful too.
But none of these descriptions
can predict what I’ll next do.
Final chorus
You don’t know me yet.
And maybe that’s the gift.
The person you had labelled
keeps beginning to shift.
Maeve laughs.
Jonah worries.
Ravi searches.
Tess says, “Why?”
Nobody stays exactly
where introductions left them lying.
You don’t know me yet.
I don’t know me too.
Stay long enough,
look gently—
we’ll see what life
comes through.
Outro
Four old friends.
Four new.
A garden going wild.
One shakes.
One seeks.
One laughs.
One looks bewildered like a child.
No need to finish anybody.
No final portrait yet.
The interesting part begins
when we discover:
You don’t know me yet.
