Begin Again

I’ve come to see my mother
and lay my sadness at her feet.
She still keeps your picture in a frame,
though you never had a chance to meet.
I put my things in the old spare room
like I did when I was ten.
And she doesn’t ask me any questions.
All she says is just Begin again.

Begin again. Begin again.
Let your old, familiar world let you in again.
When your ragged coat of dreams has worn thin again –
Begin again.

My mother she is a sorceress.
A witch, I guess, for some.
She sees all of my memories
and everything I’ve run away from.
She sees you crying on the floor
where I left you there back then.
But she covers my mouth if I try to explain.
She just says Begin again.

Begin again. Begin again.
Let your old, familiar world let you in again.
When your ragged coat of dreams has worn thin again –
Begin again.

And I don’t know why you won’t get better.
I don’t know why you can’t stay clean.
I don’t know if my love for you heals or hurts,
or something in between.

I’ve come to see my mother
and lay my sadness at her feet.
But she says you can’t put down your burden
till the circle is complete.
I think I know what she’s trying to say
every time I pick up my pen
and I want to write to say goodbye for good,
but I know I’m writing to begin again.

To begin again, begin again,
and let our old, familiar world let us in again.
Even if our coat of dreams has worn thin again.
Begin again.
Begin again.

Tam Lin