The Priest

I love this song by Joni Mitchell. It's one of those songs that's so raw it pierces right through me...longing for the sacred, a priest whose faith moves her, her internal struggles...and at the end her questions and her hope are side-by-side.


The priest sat in the airport bar
He was wearing his father's tie.
And his eyes looked into my eyes so far
Whenever the words ran dry.
Behind the lash and the circles blue
He looked as only a priest can, through--
And his eyes said, "Me," and his eyes said, "You."
And my eyes said, "Let us try."

He said, "You wouldn't like it here,
No it's no place you should share.
The roof is ripped with hurricanes
And the room is always bare.
I need the wind and I seek the cold."
He reached past the wine for my hand to hold.
And he saw me young, and he saw me old,
And he saw me sitting there.

Then he took his contradictions out
And he splashed them on my brow.
So which words was I then to doubt
When choosing what to vow?
Should I choose them all--should I make them mine,
The sermons, the hymns and the valentines?
And he asked for truth and he asked for time,
And he asked for only now.

Now the trials are trumpet scored.
Oh will we pass the test?
Or just as one loves more and more,
Will one love less and less?
Oh come let's run from this ring we're in,
Where the Christians clap and the Germans grin--
Saying, "Let them lose," crying, "Let them win,"
Oh make them both confess.