Chagrin

My father-in-law used the word “kowtow” today, which for some reason sent me back to this, which I heard in January of 2011. A year and a half ago, and somehow a single word makes my brain go all the way back to this? Stranger things have happened, I suppose.
William Bolcom did a setting of this that the ever-incredible Joyce Castle sang at her recital. It was so amazing I went home and found the lyrics.

Instead of dealing with linking all my Hawaii pictures and trying to talk about all of that (overwhelming), I’m going to leave this here for now.

Chagrin, by Sarah Arvio

It wasn’t the life I would have wanted,
had I known what sort of life I did want,
as if anyone ever knew; though I

did know. Everyone had her shadow life,
her should-have life, the life she should have had,
all those thoughts sharp-sharking into her soul,

all those doodles on the skin of the day.
The shame, that this had been and this had not,
could-should, kowtowing to the life of should,

the shock, let’s say, of seeing it had passed,
the chagrin, let’s say, the savage chagrin
that this was what it was, et cetera,

who did I think I was, et cetera,
the queen of Sheba in her shantytown,
or Shirley in her temple (such a doll),

or Scheherezade waking to the day—
not Sylvia, not the sylvan huntress.
The whole shebang was a shambles, hello,

shanghaiing my wishes, shout it out, shout,
those stories of what was and never was,
love, voyage, give me succor—sugar—suck—

hushing the heart and shushing the senses.
Hello, day, shake the sheets out, wake the day.
Cheers! (As I said this, I was choking up.)

The challenge of cheerfulness—hello, charm—
charade and charm, chameleon, cameo.
I saw the dawn and fell into a hush.