Laying on the Ground

Joshua Finsel
Language: English

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One evening back in Eugene Oregon my daughter was playing in the garden as the sun was setting on a clear dry summer evening. I was strumming an E chord and watching her play from the back porch. I was strumming the chord alternating between a low E and a low F# as the low note in the chord. It was kind of hypnotic. I don't know how long I was strumming it, maybe 5 minutes, but I started having memories of my childhood playing in my yard on Springhill Road in White Haven PA. I remembered laying on the ground and watching the clouds and swaying tree tops and feeling very grounded and happy. I remembered a sensation of almost melting into the ground, a oneness with the crust of the earth and golden grasses that surrounded me.

I wrote the first two verses and it got dark, so I put down what I was doing and got my daughter off to bed. Our housemate Merilyn Mason was watching OPB, Oregon Public Broadcast, and there was a memorial story about some of the soldiers that had just died in the Iraq war. I was captured by the story of an 18 year old young man whose father was a decorated general in Africa where he was from. I don't remember the country now, but the reason I was crushed by his story was because this boy wanted to grow up to be like his dad. He joined the military and died in his first week of service. I hated that war and still think W fabricated the reason to get the US involved in it.

I pictured this kid bleeding out on the ground there in disbelief. His future as he saw it, gone. A war created by a crazy liar sitting somewhere in the Washington DC.

In a daze, I walked to the back porch and wrote the bridge and final verse to Laying On The Ground.
Laying on the ground hands behind my head
All the golden grass is my bed
Fluffy clouds blow by
Chrystal blue the sky
I hope it is like this when I die

Swaying tops of trees all around the field
All I see right now is what's real
And all I feel inside
The beauty of being alive
I hope it is like this when I die

On the bank of a foreign shore
Flashes of my life before
The hand grenades and machine gun fire
And the speeches made by a CRAZY LIAR!!!

Laying on the ground hands along my sides
Blood is flowing out like high tide
Puffs of smoke blow by
Chrystal blue the sky
I didn't think it would be like this when I died

Contributed by Joshua Finsel - 2015/8/11 - 17:03

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