From the recording THE MARIONETTE: This & That from Hither & Yon
This song was written for a stage play entitled A Thousand Cranes. By far the heaviest subject matter I had tackled at the time, and as such, it is a great source of pride for me. Here is the synopsis.
A Thousand Cranes presents the true and poignant story of Sadako Sasaki, who was two years old when the atomic bomb was dropped on her home of Hiroshima. Sadako, now 12 years old, is a talented athlete, and trains daily with her friend Kenji to prepare for an important, upcoming competition. However, one day while running, she gets dizzy and falls. At the hospital, it is discovered she has “radiation sickness,” or leukemia – a lingering legacy of the bombing a decade prior that had killed her grandmother, and countless others. Kenji visits her at the hospital and tells her, “I’ve figured out a way for you to get well.” He reminds her of the old story about the crane. If a sick person folds a thousand paper cranes, the gods will restore their health. Sadako begins folding hundreds of beautiful origami cranes when suddenly the spirit of her grandmother appears. “I have come to show you something,” her grandmother says. As if in a dream, Sadako then folds a giant crane which comes to life and flies them to the mountain of her ancestors. She is honored to meet these comforting spirits, but soon realizes she must now stay with them. “I haven’t folded a thousand cranes yet,” she protests. Her grandmother gently assures her, “It’s better to leave them for others to finish.”
Sadako died on October 25, 1955. Her friends and classmates folded the remaining 356 cranes to complete a thousand. Soon after they began working to erect a monument in honor of her and all children killed by the bomb. In 1958 a statue was unveiled in the Hiroshima Peace Park, and each year on August 6, the anniversary of the bombing, thousands of people bring paper cranes to adorn the statue. There stands Sadako holding a golden crane in outstretched arms. Her wish is engraved on the base of the statue: “This is our cry, this is our prayer, peace in the world.”
Even though this play was performed over a dozen times. I never managed to develop a callous thick enough to hold back the tears.
Lyrics
Free falling, beloved, you didn’t slip you were shoved
Now you’re only holding to hopes held in creases and folds
And in miracles falling from heaven like stars shooting through
We’re still falling from grace like we’re hell-bound to do
Will dropping to knees ever ease the folly of fools?
Or the hell that’s still falling?
In a flash, we vanished like vapor
Only our shadows survived
They told us we died to spare lives of soldiers
Us old folks and children and brides
They called it the lesser of evils
They called it the turn of the tide
They say that it ended the senseless offensives and need to heed calls to serve sides
But those of us here called it blinding. Those of us here felt it burn
There was no time for tears or to hold loved ones near
We were gone before fear crossed our minds
When it fell from the sky on that bright August morning, wounds of the world cauterized
But that fiery cloud rising had redefined mourning for the few poisoned souls who survived
Left with tears too toxic to cry
Can you hear the gall of humanity daring decree we’ve evolved?
The sheer volume of sanity lost and repeated malfeasance involved
And from below its radiant glow the ghosts of Hiroshima know
The bomb is still falling
I’m not sure we can simply evade it. Forever, we’re fated with need
To plead absolution from heirs of solutions inflicted to purchase some peace
Will the blood-lust ever be sated? Will we ever stop baiting the beast?
Someday may we know the absence of sorrow and the taste of an unconquered peace
But if paper is shaped into birds filled with faith a wish is fulfilled, so they say
And the world will remember the souls lost in embers, interred in the cinders that day
So what are you doing today, when the children of tragedy ask you?
Can you truthfully say you’re resolved to see hatred dissolved?
I don’t care how it’s done. I don’t care what it’s called
But we’ve got to get up and stop stalling
So before the sun sets, give pause but take steps
Regret never rests... and the bomb is still falling
Music & Lyrics by David Greathouse
© 2013, Sourdough Music, ASCAP