From the Dark

Dusk to Dawn—A Journey through Grief

On March 28th and 29th, the Rainier Chorale will present the world premiere of From the Dark; a sprawling, nine-minute octavo digging into the dark corners of a vulnerable psyche. I don't enjoy the opportunity to write new music quite as often in the present climate, so when I do, I really pour myself into it with a level of obsession I've rarely felt before. In From the Dark I humbly seek to unify my audience through a shared understanding that we all suffer grief at one time or another. And it is arguably our greatest trial to overcome the adversary of the self; to resist defeat and rise anew each time we are broken. In my original text for this work I depict such a shattered time from my own experience, and while the personal details remain private, I offer the emotions freely that others might find affirmation and encouragment in their bleakest wanderings. From the program notes:

"When speaking of resilience and of overcoming adversity, there is one towering hurdle we all experience on the long road to wisdom. Grief tragically—yet beautifully—does not discriminate. It is one of the titans of human experience which bind us all into a shared, age-old identity. From the Dark sets an original poem penned by the composer dredging a deeply intimate memory of grief. In these words lies a humble attempt to reach across the stubborn divides that segregate modern humanity, and to offer the bittersweet cup of shared pain, learning, and most importantly, of growth. For it is also through grief's destruction that we learn to rebuild ourselves, stronger than before. From the Dark outlines a narrator's long-suffering wrestle with loss, distilled into the narrower representation of a single passing night. In it we must taste dread, weariness, and despair...but also that divine moment when the voice inside whispers to us at our most broken, "Arise!" and ignites within us the strength to stand and face another sunrise with courage and hope. Through the torment of this definitively-human crucible we accept the harsh but priceless gift of growing that much closer to the divine, and in doing so, closer to one another."

—

I sigh—my mind undone again

and sleep has fled astray,

I fall behind the sun again

to weep until the day.

I call—the stars come cold again

as evening withers gray,

I lie with scars untold again

and grieve the hours away.

—

I plead in silence shrill again

where blackness blinds the heart,

I strain my trial-worn will again

but slacking, slide apart.

I wane—my pallor pales again

as spirit stakes its toll,

I bleed—my valor fails again

when fear infests my soul.

—

I drift—the ache now numb again

and loose my burdened brow,

I turn, I shake, but dumb again

in truce of slumber now.

I yearn to feel the sky again,

to cleave the clouds aglow—

I lift my heel to fly again

and leave the world below.

—

I dream—my face serene again,

a moonbeam finds me still.

I glide in place, unseen again

and swooning in the chill.

I hide for fear, enthralled again

and quailing, sense a spark—

I seem to hear that call again

which hails me from the dark:

—

Arise! resounds one word again,

its dawning breaks my trance.

I gaze astounded, stirred again

beyond the bleak expanse.

I raise my weary plea again

and swift, with my last might

I prise my spirit free again

to lift into the light!

—

My eyes consumed in sun again

as sadness quits my soul,

I know that gloom has gone again

when gladness knits me whole.

I glow with life alight again

and burn with vigor bold—

I rise! my strife made bright again

to turn these tears to gold.

—

I hope I'll have the opportunity to share a recording of this new work with you soon. Stay tuned. Until then, and amidst our neverending ideological turmoil, I remain yours in music and truth.