I don’t want to call it a mystical moment, because it wasn’t ethereal enough. But it was close. This afternoon I was low on sleep, standing in line to pay for my lunch at the Divinity School’s coffee shop, and I heard the song: Bend and Break from Keane.
I still don’t know what the song means. Well, I at least don’t know what the song meant to the composer! (There’s a fine difference).
If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side
I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate
I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake
In such a chorus, the song seems to be in the first person (singular): it’s about me. Is this written to a long-gone lover to whom a living person has to keep living in order to reconnect? (i.e. I have to survive just for the hope of not letting this hope die!) Or is it an admission that I’m weaker than the person I wrote this song to? (i.e. I’ll try to not let you down … just wait!)
I don’t know the meaning for this opening stanza either:
When you, when you forget your name
When old faces all look the same
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up
Why is the author the cause of awakening? At this point I could [and I guess do!] raise the first movie parallel this stanza prompts: the scene from The Notebook. It’s a touching movie; a hopeful one … an idealistic possibility.
What about another possibility? In many songs invoking the 2nd person, I question whether the conversation extends to a human-God dialogue. This doesn’t work as a human song, however. But what about a divine one?
What if God says this to us?:
Bitter and hardened heart
Aching waiting for life to start
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up
Unfortunately, the verses don’t work as a possible monologue from God. (Confession: I often interpret these “you” songs with divine parallels even though the original authors didn’t intend so … it’s faithful playtime). Even though the words don’t work as a divine monologue, they work as a dialogue:
[God]:
When you, when you forget your name
When old faces all look the same
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up
[Human]:
If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side
I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate
I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake
[God]:
Bitter and hardened heart
Aching waiting for life to start
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up
[Human]:
If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side
I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate
I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake
(repeated: a mantra response to the ‘fleeting-ness’)
Even though I’ve used this song on loop as a prayer, I must refer back to when I first heard it Friday at noon. The small speakers cut above the conversations amidst the long line for food. It wasn’t the words … it was the melody … that cut through the clamor. Thank God!