1. |
Magnitude
05:00
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oh, we should’ve known
when our families went a-runnin’
but we ignored the little trembles:
we were in love, there was no earthquake coming
we thought the rumbles were thunder
and we both loved dancing in the rain
so we waited for a storm
but the waters never came
the earth spread between us was always our weakness
oh, you were so far away
but this gaping chasm—how it happened, i can’t fathom
call it distance, but we know it’s something different
oh, there was a time
when i loved you more than i’ve loved anything
i built a life,
and it was all around you
oh, i was yours,
and darling, you were mine
but the miles and the silence…
love, we drew our own fault lines
the earth spread between us was always our weakness
oh, you were so far away
but this gaping chasm—how it happened, i can’t fathom
call it distance, but we know it’s something different
oh, they say you can rebuild
from ashes into flame
but you can’t get it all back;
some things will never be the same
so, must we decide
where to cast the blame?
an earthquake is an earthquake—
the rubble is all we can claim
the earth spread between us was always our weakness
oh, you were so far away
but this gaping chasm—how it happened, i can’t fathom
call it distance, but we know it’s something different
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2. |
Days Numbered
04:15
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she dyes her hair brown by herself; she has for thirty years
reprimands my paw-paw for not “turning up his ears”
it was christmas of ‘19 the last i saw her,
the memory, now lost to time, is just a blur
i go out twice for groceries the two months i’m at home
but when i must go back to work, i call her on the phone
when my masks come in the mail i nearly cry:
the sandwiches she ate to save all those twist ties…
paw-paw’s ninety-one now; grandmother’s eighty-nine
i thought the choice would make itself, given all this time
if i got them sick, i’d never right that wrong
but they’re not getting any younger; how long, how long, how long?
one year is stretching into two—no giving, only taking
uncertainty claws up a heart that’s busy, busy breaking
i sit here wondering where is the boundary?
how far, what risks—god all i want’s to feel her arms around me
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3. |
Soaring Still
06:00
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cat’s talked to me about her mom before
a snapshot of a moment, a thing she used to say
it always made me smile, but i never pressed for more
i knew when she was ready, she’d find her way
but i couldn’t have prepared myself for the story of maria—
her passion for adventure, her levelheadedness,
a woman full of courage and good ideas—
i’ll try my best to tell it, and it begins with this:
she was barely old enough to understand
the changing world, her mom’s command
to never touch the windows
then they pasted them with paper
and she couldn’t even look out anymore
and so she learned the sacrifice of war:
one night, while she was fast asleep,
the nazis came and did a sweep
and took away her father
in the morning light, she woke to find
him gone, and even after he returned,
she’d seek him out of deep concern
even though i never met her,
all these things i know about her—
how could i not see her in you?
she was always there beside you,
a steady hand to hold and guide you
it’s so clear she’s soaring still
in the heart that beats inside you
maria grew up tall and wise,
fell in love and married job, and in the sky
from the plane’s round window,
saw their new home like a welcome mat,
all wilderness and endless green expanse
like a promise, like a chance
even though i never met her,
all these things i know about her—
how could i not see her in you?
she was always there beside you,
a steady hand to hold and guide you
it’s so clear she’s soaring still
in the heart that beats inside you
in portland, they raised you and jake,
led hiking trips and swam in crater lake
and then took to the air
she was trying for her silver badge,
soaring in her glider up above
she was doing what she loved.
even though i never met her,
all these things i know about her—
how could i not see her in you?
she was always there beside you,
a steady hand to hold and guide you
it’s so clear she’s soaring still
in the heart that beats inside you
you talked to me about her some before
a snapshot of a moment, a thing she used to say
it always made me smile, but i never pressed for more
i knew when you were ready, you’d find the way
until you never did, at least not how you wanted to
pen hovering above a page that’s blurred
trying until giving up, a writer through and through
who simply couldn’t ever find the words
but now… even though i never met her,
all these things i know about her—
how could i not see her in you?
and you were always there beside me,
a steady hand to hold and guide me
it’s so clear she’s soaring still
in the heart that beats inside me
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4. |
On Death
04:30
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my mother told me i didn’t have to look
as if she didn’t know that i had to look
the flowers on the casket were bold against the white
i stood there, stoic, silent, still, and paling at the sight
beneath her skin, the blood ran not, the toxins did their job:
with makeup and formaldehyde, time itself was stalled
i scoured for some traces of the nana that i knew
and willed my mind to overlook the fake, the waste, the skew
they painted on a face that i had never seen before
the fuchsia dress was something that she never would have worn
fake nails upon her fingers, pink rouge upon her cheek—
they tried their best, but Death had had her marked for o’er a week
when you leave the living, there’s nothing left to see
it does no good to hold onto a body ceased to be
for every other flying, swaying, swimming thing on earth,
death is just as natural as its close companion, birth
when my time has come to leave the ones i love behind
and carry nothing with me but the knowledge i was kind,
do not let this body fall into the hands of men
who’d try to make me look as if i were alive again
i refuse to leech into the soil and the stream
for purposes no grander than a money-sucking scheme
that tarnishes my memory, the image i now see
of her; i lie awake at night and wish it’d leave me be
so take me to the body farm and study how i go
or let me be a vessel for a cure, for life, for hope
if ashes go to ashes and dust blows back to dust
then bury not, but plant me, if to ground return i must
let me fuse with water clear, with dirt and seed and light
let me grow into a perch for weary birds in flight
and if you seek my presence, loved one, come sit here with me
and realize that this tree and you apart can never be
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5. |
Siren
06:00
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you’re lost on a sea that you sailed on
now it’s cold and rough where you are
it’s a harsh wind blowing
but i did not call this storm you see
i’ve just been here, open-armed, invitingly
i’ve been alone on this sea for so long
i wanted to touch, i had to feel love
before these waves took me under
but [ava] you came to me in the dark, in the dark
and as gentle as a siren can be
i caught you and i held you down
oh if the pink light of morning
would wash all the demons out of here
i could lie down on your ground
and pull my body near
but the knots in my stomach are telling,
there’s nowhere to rest, there’s no place to go,
and the shadows, they keep on
with their shanty song
it’s the darkest horse that’s chasing me down
and the gods here have no care
where you go when you drown
i’ve been mistaken for something i’m not
for something i wished i could be:
pretty and fine, i’d draw the line
at just singing soothingly
but i’ve been a liar
i have been ugly, i can be ugly
and we’ll join the venture and the morning star
singing haul away my laddie-o...
you’re lost on a sea that you sailed on
now it’s cold and rough
* [ava] was the name i substituted to make this song a little gayer; in Joan Shelley's version, "Aden" is what was written and sung. i also possibly changed a couple of other words, made everything lowercase, and added extra punctuation as i am wont to do
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6. |
Sleeping
03:50
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started off driving an hour
just to sleep beside her
third floor, one bed apartment
no elevator
snuggled up close ‘til we got tired,
a kiss goodnight and then
scoot to our separate sides
of her childhood bed, size twin
i’m pressed against the wall,
our pillows overlapping,
twisting to accommodate
her cat between us napping
now we just walk a few feet
to our bedroom down the hall
a pillowy, plush queen bed
with room for both to sprawl
except when now we slumber,
it’s close and warm and soft
i need her there to touch, to hold,
to ground my drifting off
deep in sleep she follows me
each time i toss or turn
like dancing puzzle pieces taught,
unconsciously, to yearn
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7. |
Paint Myself Trying
04:45
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bimonthly, i’m going to therapy
i’m trying my best to write songs
i let people tell me they love me
and i try not to tell them they’re wrong
some say you can’t love others until you love yourself
speaking on behalf of us with imperfect mental health
but i don’t see how that can be true
when so much of me is my love for you
and why would i hurt somebody else
when i can take any bad thing out on myself?
if there’s anything that’s true for me, if there’s anything i’ve learned
i’ve gotta live with the bridges i’ve built and the bridges that i’ve burned
got an arsenal of answers that i use to survive:
distract, devote, consume, fawn, and self-deprive
because why would i hurt somebody else
when i can take any bad thing out on myself?
it’s hard for me to understand how you’re still here
steadfast in your belief that this fog will clear
i can’t make any sense of what you see in me
when i’m drinking up the waters of the self-hating sea
i worry that it’s too late to paint myself anew
but if i can’t do it for me, then i’ll do it for you
is that wrong? is that wrong?
am i wrong? am i wrong?
‘cause why would i hurt somebody else
when i can take any bad thing out on myself?
there’s all this love that hums somewhere deep inside of me
and it’s all reserved for others and something that i never see
and is it healthy? no, but it’s what i do to cope
we’re all doing whatever we must, whatever we can, to cope:
bimonthly, i’m going to therapy
i’m trying my best to write songs
i let people tell me they love me
and i try not to tell them they’re wrong
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8. |
Streetlight Birds
03:00
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amber streetlight birds through the window
made their home in her flyaway hairs
shrouding her, surrounding her—a halo, a glow
kissing every last strand as i stared
wondering just what i’d done to deserve her
as the sight snatched the breath from my lungs
and my heart through the tears saw a great golden blur
and it knew, and it knew she’s the one
amber streetlight birds through the window
made their home in her flyaway hairs
shrouding her, surrounding her—a halo, a glow
kissing every last strand as i stared
wondering just what i’d done to deserve her
as the sight snatched the breath from my lungs
and my heart through the tears saw a great golden blur
and it knew, and it knew she’s the one
oh, my heart through the tears saw a great golden blur
and i knew, and i know you’re the one
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9. |
What Rings True
05:15
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the worry comes, it stays a while
walks holes into my shoes
it dulls the edges of my smile
it loves the dark and sings the blues
beguiling lies it speaks to me
in manner logical and plain,
says, “if you love her, set her free;
she’s trapped and you’re the windowpane”
that worry comes more than it goes,
but this is what rings true:
not every love will last, i know,
but some of them do,
some of them do
but i cannot draw a line now,
say what’s yours and what is mine
my soup of dreams and fears allowed
with yours to intertwine
makes dreams the spice and hope the broth
and fear the steam to rise and fall away;
we cook the excess off
and eat tomorrow what’s made today
the worry comes more than it goes,
but this is what rings true:
not every love will last, i know,
but some of them do,
some of them do
love is not the biggest gestures
love is not the highest highs
it’s a series of conjectures
you will constantly revise
i know i’m more than what i’ve learned
from my parents, from the world
a fading, lonely moth once burned,
my wings would not give up their furl
but you were scared and lonely too
we made our home, we took a chance
our wings now warm, we flew and flew
diurnal moths in sunlight dance
my worries come more than they go,
but this is what rings true:
not every love will last, i know,
but some of them do,
some of them do
my worries come more than they go,
but this is what rings true:
not every love will last, i know,
but some of them do,
some of them do.
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Lauren Oxford Sevierville, Tennessee
Lauren Oxford is a songwriter, folksinger, and filker who lives in the mountains of East Tennessee with her wife Emma &
their three cats. Her debut album combines soul-bearing, heartfelt lyricism and lush, thoughtful orchestration, courtesy of some of her dearest friends.
She is also a member of folk “queertet” The Starlight Darlins, whose first EP is also available on Bandcamp. (see link below)
... more
Lauren Oxford recommends:
The Winfield Sessions, Vol. 1
by The Starlight Darlins
three treasured friends who are brilliant songwriters and me. four part harmonies with femme voices, live around one mic, one take each. unpolished, raw, old folk sound. also we're all queer <3
go to album
karine polwart's voice is one of the wonders of my world, and her lyricism and instrumentation speak to me in ways few other artists' do.
go to album
the one song i covered is by joan shelley, if that says anything about how much i adore this artist. this is my favorite album of hers for purely sentimental reasons, but all of them are this good.
go to albumIf you like Lauren Oxford, you may also like:
Courage, Dear Heart
by Summer Russell
supported by 19 fans who also own “Lauren Oxford”
go to album
supported by 19 fans who also own “Lauren Oxford”
go to album
Postcards From the Country
by Trae Sheehan
West Virginia country-folk singer-songwriter Trae Sheehan aims to find a balance between the traditional and the modern on his new LP.
go to album
