Bones of Saints

Listen while you read:  Robert Plant

They're loading up the ships
And they're loading up the planes
There's madness in the sky
Above the bones of saints

So much so nearly broken
The servants of a lie
Now everything is burning
There's a fire up in the sky

And I said no, no, no . . . 

We're up against the fence
When all the walls fall down
I hear the children scream
But then the fear abounds

And ask a leading question
Where all the money comes?
I say who makes the bullets?
Tell me, who sells the guns?

And I said no, no, no . . .

In the Garden of Eden
As the wheels go 'round and 'round
It's the song of the ages
Where the last fair deal's gone down

No, no, no . . . 

~ Robert Plant et al (The Sensational Space Shifters)

Today is All Saints' Day. Or All Hallows' Day. Or the Feast of All Saints. Or (if you're in Mexico) the Day of the Dead. I was planning to pick a tune from the fabulous compilation of Grateful Dead covers called Day of the Dead, but then I came upon this new one by Robert Plant. His eleventh album (post Led Zeppelin), Carry Fire, came out a couple of weeks ago to rave reviews. "Bones of Saints" is a compelling title, isn't it?

Do watch the video linked above. Artistically arranged to look like those literary comic books, the illustrations provide a lesson on wars and suffering throughout history. Seems our journey toward a civilized world is taking forever. Perhaps we will never get there? The comic book art reminded me of some bits of propaganda given to me when I was a good little church-going kid. Comic books on The Crusades, those bloody and violent religious wars that began over 900 years ago and lasted a couple hundred years. I can still recall my confusion, thinking that if the nuns were giving me comic books about wars, they must have been good wars? Yes, I think they were called "Holy Wars." An oxymoron if there ever was one. I now consider this "religious education" as a form of child abuse.

But then there were the saints. I wanted to be one! But, alas, my name had already been taken! Saint Therese, the Little Flower. Several years ago, I went to a reading by Frank McCourt, author of Angela's Ashes. When I asked him to sign my copy of the book, he asked to whom he should address it. "Therese," I said. He stared at me for a moment and then said, "Like the saint?"

Yes, like the saint. I am no saint. But compared to the evil minds that create, condone, and celebrate war, maybe I am a saint. And maybe you are, too.

In response to the questions about guns and bullets posed in the song, Plant had this to say: "We know very well that if there were no armament factories, nothing would be happening. We have to watch it all like some prolonged TV serial . . . somebody in an opium den somewhere writing the next episode."

And I said no, no, no . . .