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2074

Abstract

know my own body, I will disappear into a cloud of smoke, a pile of embers.</p><p id="ba4a"><i>Hallelujah</i>.</p><p id="d34a">Your voice still echoes against these walls. The sounds like ghosts, repeating only the same syllables over and over again.</p><p id="aa0a">You don’t say anything anymore.</p><p id="7488">There was another time when we covered one another in blood — do you remember? We fed each other with its nutrients, our tongues ringing with the metallic tang.</p><p id="30a7"><i>Hallelujah.</i></p><p id="a6ec">You said my compassion had betrayed you. But did you really look?</p><p id="7fd6">Maybe I needed it more than you. Maybe it was a holy act to keep it.</p><p id="d1f9">I ask you, did you spend yours on me?</p><p id="d87a">Did you?</p><p id="69b2">I only know what I have learned: that lovers cannot be trusted with this tender task.</p><p id="0eef">I hear the heavens’ chorus of agreement.</p><p id="b65e"><i>Hallelujah.</i></p><p id="5d45">Who will we stand before at this moment of judgment? We wretched, bloodied creatures who cup lifeless remnants in our trembling, clumsy hands?</p><p id="8f26">Is there something out there who could embrace this mess? Who could forgive it?</p><p id="5313">I’ve tried so hard — I swear, I have.</p><p id="ee77">This is all I have to offer.</p><p id="f2a4">This is all that I am.</p><p id="369b"><i>Hallelujah</i>.</p><p id="48ad"><b>Author’s note: </b>This is an adaptation of Leonard Cohen’s <i>Hallelujah </i>written from a woman’s perspective. How fascinating that the meaning is the same...</p><p id="f933">Listen to Pentatonix’s beautiful cover below.</p> <figure id="dc95"> <div> <div> <img class="ratio" src="http://placehold.it/16x9"> <iframe class="" src="https://cdn.embedly.com/widgets/media.html?src=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FoqDfLunw_BU%3Ffeature%3Doembed&display_name=YouTube&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DoqDfLunw_BU&image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.ytimg.com%2Fvi%2FoqDfLunw_BU%2Fhqdefault.jpg&a

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mp;key=a19fcc184b9711e1b4764040d3dc5c07&type=text%2Fhtml&schema=youtube" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" width="854"> </div> </div> </figure></iframe></div></div></figure><p id="ebfe">© <a href="undefined">Yael Wolfe</a> 2022</p><p id="3e63"><b><i>More on the power of music:</i></b></p><div id="528e" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/my-erotic-soundscape-36bdbcc8ef1e"> <div> <div> <h2>My Erotic Soundscape</h2> <div><h3>The songs that stoke my passions</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*okN5aN1VJKqSJEmNtDxGOg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="dbe6" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-power-of-song-714995d7f458"> <div> <div> <h2>The Power of Song</h2> <div><h3>Music is a spell, a prayer, a blessing</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*2g9zeRGnJCI245dcH875fA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="e970" class="link-block"> <a href="https://psiloveyou.xyz/the-love-song-of-a-heartbeat-a6666319ad16"> <div> <div> <h2>The Love Song of a Heartbeat</h2> <div><h3>How the people we love create the rhythm of our universe.</h3></div> <div><p>psiloveyou.xyz</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*8e8w9mlMLJg60MJLa-kM7w.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Who Will Forgive the Lovers?

Hellbent are we on this holy carnage

My fingers are clumsy at the ivory keys. My voice is untrained in song.

I can’t please you with that secret chord.

I can only speak through these symbols on a page.

God, how I wish I knew another language, a different note. If I did, maybe you would finally be able to hear me.

Instead, I am left with this clumsy institution, this insufficient ritual of left to right. This baffled queen composing, too.

Hallelujah.

Who is the beauty on that moonlit roof in our story? Is it me?

Did my rhyme and meter beguile you?

There was water. You in the chair. The blade I held to your jaw. What came off its edge clung to my bare thighs.

Your eyes were closed, your head flung back, and you whispered one word against my lips.

Hallelujah.

I don’t remember how we ended up on that dusty lane, fingers twitching at our hips.

All I remember is the crack I heard.

A hard boot heel on a wooden stair? A raven’s beak against a window pane?

Or…

…a hammer cocking?

I don’t know.

I just drew and fired.

And saw, only for a moment, the flash at your fingers, too.

Hallelujah.

I know this desolate land so well. I have endlessly galloped through its curves and planes, like Joan of Arc under her streaming banner.

Armored and defeated all at once.

This blood-stained land will narrow and recede beneath my feet, until there is nothing left but a cell.

And one day, when I know every square inch as well as I know my own body, I will disappear into a cloud of smoke, a pile of embers.

Hallelujah.

Your voice still echoes against these walls. The sounds like ghosts, repeating only the same syllables over and over again.

You don’t say anything anymore.

There was another time when we covered one another in blood — do you remember? We fed each other with its nutrients, our tongues ringing with the metallic tang.

Hallelujah.

You said my compassion had betrayed you. But did you really look?

Maybe I needed it more than you. Maybe it was a holy act to keep it.

I ask you, did you spend yours on me?

Did you?

I only know what I have learned: that lovers cannot be trusted with this tender task.

I hear the heavens’ chorus of agreement.

Hallelujah.

Who will we stand before at this moment of judgment? We wretched, bloodied creatures who cup lifeless remnants in our trembling, clumsy hands?

Is there something out there who could embrace this mess? Who could forgive it?

I’ve tried so hard — I swear, I have.

This is all I have to offer.

This is all that I am.

Hallelujah.

Author’s note: This is an adaptation of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah written from a woman’s perspective. How fascinating that the meaning is the same...

Listen to Pentatonix’s beautiful cover below.