L C Vieira

(Lisbon, Portugal)

Savior Man


She hid with the sheep from the wolves of the land
and ran with the wolves when they got out of hand,
but she never knew love like her Savior Man.

You threw your big party and nobody came,
all the thumpers, big bumpers who carried your name,
so you walked through the streets and called any one
to your table of treasures in the rain and the sun.

But what can you do with the one who won't come,
who wanders the fields and the forests alone?
He gathers your daughter to dreams in his land,
as her dress and her heart slip into his hand.

Yes, she hid with the sheep from the wolves of the land
and ran with the wolves when they got out of hand,
but she never knew love like her Savior Man.
No, there's no kind of love like her Savior Man.

This one steps in darkness where others have feared,
and sinks in far waters when many stay near.
He discovers each treasure and calls it a name,
and she holds close his words and whispers the same.

Whispers and smiles, the wolves in the sand,
as she races the wind for the pain in his hand,
her tongue spills honey and wildness again,
and her hair steals the sun from her time in the rain.

Then what can be done for the one who has gone
to rivers and mountains of her lover's great arms,
who plays in the fields when simple ones rest,
and laughs with the sheep who are lost and are blessed?

Oh, some prayed in the valley of deceitful men,
and others drank waters and rose again
to search the earth for the ways of man,
but never found love like her Savior Man.

He threw his big party, but the saints didn't come,
they were doing their best while the sinners had fun.
Still she cried for them all, that they'd understand,
as she held up her gift from her Savior Man.

So what can you do with the one who won't come,
who wanders the fields and the forests alone?
He gathers your daughter to dreams in his land,
as her dress and her heart slip into his hand.

(2003)

Submitted: Saturday, April 07, 2012
Edited: Monday, July 22, 2013

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