I wrote this poem in Liverpool, after being completely seduced by the energy of a tree (photo 2) at St. Peter’s Church, (photo 3) where John Lennon and Paul McCartney first played together. I wrote it while perched on the jump seat of the magical mystery car (photo 1) on the tour between the church and the intersection where Julia Lennon was killed (more on that tragedy another time). Dedicated to my Little Darlin’ who has hyper-focused on The Beatles for half of her life, and made me the very lucky recipient of her info-dumping. Without further ado, here’s my tribute to this mystical, mythical spot:
Eleanor Rigby
They planted a seed
beside a grave
in the shadow of God
and a mystic burred tree
The fresh sapling was watered in the tears of the loved
and sunned in the eyes of the pious
The roots grew strong in the strings of the springs
and rocked the earth far under
Branches and greens
draped over the stone,
markers to find the lost
Etched by lovers and
scarred by loafers
reaching for heaven now
gnarled and mottled and gray
Yet
Echos of the green still sway
to the rhythm
of the past
