Time for the Marching to End

©2010 E. Nyman & L. Berry

When faith in human nature’s restored and all oppressed are free

When elders are safe, the jobless employed,

and children are no longer hungry

When someone decides universal care and there’s an end to poverty

Then it will be time - for the marching to end.

When someone decides that violence will no longer be commonplace

When the lonely despaired find a friend,

when orphans are embraced

When the gentle ones deliver strength

and the misguided officials replaced

Then it will be the time - for the marching to end.

When someone says help and healing

can change one’s circumstance

When the broken spirit and the damaged soul

can finally feel acceptance 

When those lashing out, breaking laws, doing time

can have a second chance,

Then it will be time – for the marching to end.

When someone decides that we all have strengths –

unique talents to express

When someone enforces hate crime laws

and gives shelter to the homeless

When those called disabled or different can pursue happiness 

Then it will be time - for the marching to end.

We must join together to become the majority

Our united voice strong with authority

 “We the people” means everyone including you and me

The time has come to expect equality

When those elected are just and fair and work hard to educate

When every minority is treated with respect instead of hate

When all are seen as equal, no one discriminates

Then it will be time – for the marching to end. ☮

Give Me a Dream

ã 2002 E. Nyman and L. Berry

Chorus

Give me a dream where I live to grow old

And fathers return to protect us from the cold

And living in peace is free.

Give me a dream where I live to grow old

And lovers return and I have someone to hold -

Someone to care for me.

Someone to run through my dreams with me

When the night is cold and I cannot see

And the war is on the doorsteps of our lives.

And patient ladies try to survive

Their sons have died; Mothers have cried

And we all long for our brothers to come home.

(Chorus)

Look up to a sky that is wide

I reach for you - you’re by my side

I am the lucky one – there is no pain

We can run through a warm September rain

And greet the homecoming train.

(Chorus)

Oh to be in a peaceful world of certainty

With my beloved next to me

These are my hopes and dreams

Without them, I’ll come apart at the seams.

(Chorus)

Spin of the Wheel (Kosovo: Anyone’s Homeland)

ã 1999 E. Nyman & L. Berry

With a spin of the wheel, we have won no prize

Our fate becomes capture, watching our people die

We become a tale to tell in living rooms, on nightly news

Our kingdom comes in dying fields, our destiny to lose.

Cold night air, our hearts frozen with fear

No kindle to thaw, no spring this year

With a spin of the wheel.

We have no strength to heal our wounds         an old woman weeps

No stones to mark our graves                  where wagons of whispers

Against all odds, forget-me-nots              have been blown to the sky

are all that’s left of their goodbyes.                 they fall to the ground             

                                                                                    leaving a shrine                                                                       

Beyond the field of blackbirds           where no one will come to pray

in breathless wandering                                       except for today

Wading through the darkest of night     when the old woman weeps

In a theater of war                                         and the mighty soldier

Only to rest in the sea of white                      is brought to his knees

With a spin of the wheel.

With photos torn and memories broken

Feelings fractured remain unspoken

The children’s tears dampen our souls

They’ve forgotten their homework

will they ever remember their homes?

With a spin of the wheel.  ☮

Inside Out

ã 1998 E. Nyman & L. Berry

The trees stand ready for winter

The cool air takes my breath away

I walk through a carpet of fallen leaves

Crunching beneath my feet

Like cornflakes on the kitchen floor

Hastily poured looking for a magical toy

When I was unaware,

Unafraid of a change of seasons

The world outside in, my life inside out.

The trees stand ready for winter

The cool air takes my breath away

I jump into a pile of fallen leaves

Tossing them up to the sky

As if to defy the inevitable

Playful and warm, protected from harm

But now I am alarmed

By this sudden change of seasons

The world outside in, my life inside out.

The trees stand ready for winter

The cool air takes my breath away

I run through a passage of frozen leaves

Slipping beneath my feet

Hoping to elude, trying to outrun

Will I endure until the next

Change of seasons?

The world outside in, my life inside out.

Our Vermont

© 1999 L. Berry & E. Nyman

We gather on our porches

at the dimming of the day

Rocking gently to the distant sound

of tractors bailing hay

We reflect upon our blessings –

We are grateful to be here

This is the simple quiet living we hold dear.  

Chorus

We are born to your beauty by the cry of the loon

We give thanks for your harvest by the light of the moon

Of the tapestry that blankets our spirit and captures our hearts

Let us sing to our Vermont.

In Spring you are every child’s wonder

with the melting snow

As sweet streams rising

widen old wagon roads

Along the golden meadows,

beneath green mountain views

White sails of Summer shine on

crystal lakes of blue (Chorus)

As silhouettes of history are woven in time

Trees stand guard, roots deep and sure,

where the rails of freedom lie

And Patriots are honored

with their names carved in stone

And the flight of the Falcon heralds the dawn.   (Chorus)

Northern Maple forests paint

yellow, red, orange, brown

Outlining whitewashed steeples,

fading barns, and sleepy towns.

As nature rests and shadows fall,

your winter white playground begins to call

Into the arms of snow angels we fall.  (Chorus)

Chorus

We are born to your beauty by the cry of the loon

We give thanks for your harvest by the light of the moon

Of the tapestry that blankets our spirit and captures our hearts

Let us sing to our Vermont.

**********************************************************************************************************

First One                                                                                                                 

(Watching from the kitchen counter)                                                       

©1997 E. Nyman & L. Berry; lyrics by Lynn Berry, music by Emily Nyman                      

              She props me up on the kitchen counter                      

              Held captive, I watch her

              Make peanut butter and jelly

              Wrapped in waxed paper.

              I don’t move, I don’t make a sound

              I am so amazed how she does this with ease

              So methodical, so predictable

              Hero of the household

              Meeting everyone’s needs.

              First one, just mine, then two

              He follows me to school

              Then three - we took the bus by then

              And four, and what a surprise with number five

              But I’m on my own now

              I’m no longer watching from the kitchen counter

              And she is saddened by the decline

              In the number of lunches to pack

              And she’s tired of getting tangled

              In that newfangled plastic wrap.

              At first it was simple, while she had lots to do

              Wiping noses and tying shoes

              She never questioned her role.

              When people asked, “who are you?” And “what do you do?”

              I am the mother of five ... I am the wife of the architect.”

              But one day she awoke and found herself confused,

              Out of place, and so alone

              She had raised them to be on their own

              And now she was unsettled,

              Frightened by the prospect of a different role.

              First one, just mine, then two

              He follows me to school

              Then three - we took the bus by then

              And four, and what a surprise with number five

              Everyone’s on their own now

              And there’s no one watching from the kitchen counter

              But wait ... What do I see?

              There’s someone who looks a little bit like me, could it be...?

              First one, just mine, then two

              He follows me to school

              Then three - we took the bus by then

              And four, and what a surprise with number five

              Everyone’s on their own now

              And there’s someone new watching from the kitchen counter

              And she is reassured that she has a place

              - reassured that she is needed

              And someday this little one will understand

              Why gramma refuses to use that newfangled plastic wrap.