Led the Away
(For
Gord Downie)
V1
I woke up to the inevitable
man, it’s so unbelievable
Gord, up on High
a quick flip of the moleskine
and a liter of cheap wine
gonna sit in this dark bar
and write this song for him
Chorus
with constant revisions made
to the Canadian curricula
always poised a portent
assigned our Poet Guardian
gloriously, you kissed
the dream
my exquisite friend
o’ how you led the away
V2
what it means to be hip
how to follow a seamless script
every sentence so imperative
cool lessons measured by his time
mumbling and raging every rhyme
we urged them to become our heart
and that makes losing him the
hardest
part
Chorus
with constant revisions made
to the Canadian curricula
always poised a portent
assigned our Poet Guardian
gloriously, you kissed
the dream
my exquisite friend
o’ how you led the way
Bridge
the inevitable
so fucking unbelievable
Gord’s graceful goodbye
the inevitable
left us inconsolable
crying under a bruised sky
whispering please stay
***
In a little less
than a month, it’ll be a whole year since we lost Gord Downie. I’m no less
broken now than I was when I first heard he was sick and it was terminal.
The day he
passed, on my commute home, I scribbled a bunch of lines on scrap paper I found
in the recesses of my work bag. I stood tearful, on the side of the road,
writing out my feelings. I’ve penned a good few poems in his honour but this
one was singing its way through my head, as a song.
Fast-forward to
Halloween weekend, 2017. I’m dressed up as a bumble bee standing outside of
Freeman’s Fairview with my brother who is dolled up like a rock ‘n’ roll ghoul.
He hauled me aside to tell me about a song he was writing. I listened intently
and we talked about the weight and beauty of what he was working on and then as
an afterthought, I told him about the lyrics I mashed into that bit of paper.
He encouraged me to send them to him and he’d set it to music. Eventually, he
did – and, beautifully so.
The lyrics have
evolved since his first rough recording of it which left me in a tarn of tears
on first listen. Not only because he did such a stunning job embedding my words
into his music but because he sang the line: ‘Gord up on High …’ the exact
way I heard it in my head when I wrote it down. It gave me goosebumps and it
still does now whenever I am wherever he is playing it in his shows. It’s a
really special thing, for someone solitary like me, to hear something jotted
down in private, come alive in such a powerful way.
Soon enough, God
willing, you’ll be able to listen even if you can’t make a gig. Perhaps it’ll
be closer to the anniversary so we can pay tribute in an official capacity. For
now though, I wanted to share the lyrics, conserve them here in poem form, here
at the Teapot.
I’m really proud
of how it has advanced from a tear-stained cut of paper to a gorgeous ode set
to beautiful music. I appreciate, with all my tattered little heart, my big
brother even wanted to tackle it. I’m
excited for you all to hear it but if you’re able to check out one of his gigs
when he’s playing around town, you just might hear it.
In propinquity,
Nic
